


Sunrises and Sunsets

by kenthel



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Canon Divergence, Coming Out, F/M, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Sexual Content, main pairing slow burn, part-time jobs for everyone, shocker I know, there is a lot of volleyball playing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2018-11-15 10:38:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 37,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11229222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenthel/pseuds/kenthel
Summary: Kageyama Tobio is a first-year business student at Sakura University who has given up his dream of playing volleyball professionally. He happens to cross paths with Hinata Shouyou, an old friend from his high school volleyball team, and rethinks what he wants to do in his life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> and here starts kageyama's university life. there's a bit of everything you'd expect.
> 
> just saying: there is no cheating in the main pairing
> 
> my word doc for this is call "sam writes shoujo," but it's not as shoujo as I thought it would be.

Kageyama Tobio’s roommate came home just before five o’clock in the morning on a Wednesday. He kicked the door open and it slammed against the metal shoe rack. He struggled out of jeans and a beer-stained button down. He then knocked over a desk chair and let out a string of loud curses. Lastly, he noisily gulped down a liter of water and let himself collapse onto the unmade bed on the opposite side of the room. The bedsprings squeaked with resistance.

But Kageyama did not want to get up just yet. His first class was not until eleven and the sun had only just begun to soften the darkness of the horizon. He turned towards the wall and pulled his covers over his head. He tried to remember his dream. He thought about how warm and comfortable his bed was with the mattress layer his parents had bought him.

Ten minutes passed. Kageyama was pleasantly cocooned in his bed, teetering on the brink of sleep. 

A piercing loud snore erupted from the roommate followed by a deep, voiced sigh of an exhale. It was followed by another that hitched halfway through and became an agonized groan. 

Kageyama cracked his fingers and his wrists from under his sheets, suddenly too awake. 

He listened to the other body shift against the blankets. The wind disturbed the leaves of the cherry blossom tree outside the window. He heard a wet burp and the gentle plop of a pillow hitting the ground.

“Uh oh,” the roommate muttered. He rolled out of bed and made two heavy steps of bare foot against linoleum toward the door.

Kageyama wanted to scream as he pulled his blankets off. He made a point not to look in the direction of the recycle bin. He prepared himself for the day. He swallowed more times in a minute and a half than he thought was possible. He didn’t want to breathe through his nose for fear of the acrid scent. He didn’t want to breathe through his mouth for fear of the unkind words he might say. He refilled the liter bottle with water from the drinking fountain in the hallway and set it aside the recycle bin with a box of tissues. He left the room and stomped down the hallway, hands swinging forcefully at his sides.

The woman who manned the graveyard shift at the check in desk looked at Kageyama sympathetically as he settled down in a communal armchair by the front door. She was the youngest of the dorm mothers, having just graduated herself the year before. She was playing a game of solitaire with an old deck of red checkered playing cards and looked close to victory. She set the remainder of the deck down and leaned on the desk, framing her face with her hands.

“Good morning?” she asked, softly. She offered him a kind smile. She had freckles, dimples, and eyes that listened.

Kageyama met her eye only for a glance. He cleared his throat. He wished he was clever. “It could be better,” he replied.

He had wanted to say, ‘It is now that you’re a part of it.’ 

“We’ve all been there,” she agreed. She stretched her arms up over her head and laced her fingers. She was short with brown hair and side bangs that didn’t quite make it to her eyebrows. She had strong shoulders and arms that fought her tight gray university cheerleading t-shirt. She picked up her cards and returned to her game.

Kageyama took out a textbook and pretended to read. He stole looks at her nimble, little fingers and the curve of her face. He outlined with a pencil in the margins the shadows of her jawline. He felt squeamish with shame, looking at his pathetic little doodle. He closed his book and wiped his eyes to fend off the sleep he could no longer have. He took up his backpack and flicked the tab by his name to indicate that he was out.

He looked back at the door mother, who was staring at the cards contemplatively. He called, “I’m off.”

She waved with her free hand and did not look up. “Take care,” she replied.

 

The spring air was brisk and refreshing on Kageyama’s face. The trees in the dormitory courtyard were just past fully bloomed, some shedding loosed pink petals into the air. He walked to the street and crossed a small bridge over a tiny, bubbling stream that separated the university from the city. He waited at the crosswalk even though there was no traffic. The convenience store at the end of the block became his destination. The indicator turned green and the bird sounds emitted from the air horn shaped speaker, the cool air breezing by the back of his neck, and the drifting pink slivers triggered a memory.

It was his first day of high school. He woke up to the sound of his mother calling his name and to the smell of fried eggs, toast, and plain yogurt. He turned in bed and was face-to-face with a blue and yellow volleyball. He smiled, sitting up and gripping the ball in his eager fingers. His first love was volleyball. Love and infatuation clouded his mind and settled like a fog over his life. He was loath to leave his ball behind, but he assured himself that he would join the Karasuno Volleyball Club on the very first day and his dry spell between the school years would come to a happy end.

There was a transitional blur. Swarms of unfamiliar faces and hesitant introductions during homeroom. The smell of new notebooks and eraser crumbs. The clatter of chairs and desks being moved around. Doors opening and closing. Teacher’s voices speaking slowly and crisply.

The bell rang. More voices and sighs of relief. The door opened and Kageyama wormed his way through the congested halls toward the gymnasium. The locker room’s lingering scent of teenage hormones and sweat accepted him as he changed into his gym uniform. The pungent aroma of leather and the sensation of victory when he discovered the trove of volleyballs welcomed him home. He wheeled the basket of balls out into the gymnasium. His brand new volleyball shoes squeaked against the wood of the floor. His heart raced when he noticed the net, already set up and inviting.

He stood at the serving line and took a few calculated steps backwards. He held the ball with both hands and took a deep breath. He could feel himself already beginning to perspire with anticipation. He tossed the ball up, took his leading steps and jumped into his serve. He needed this now, before he stretched, before he warmed up. He craved that stinging warmth of the ball against his palm. Eye on the target, on the shadow of its descent, he felt gravity fight his momentum.

“What are you doing here?” a voice demanded.

Kageyama stood in the doorway of a 7-11 convenience store. A chipper jazz rendition of _Mrs. Robinson_ blared through the speakers which only emphasized sudden outburst from behind the counter. Kageyama willed himself to look over to the cashier and saw, through the dangling advertising banners and hot cases of chicken sticks and meat buns, Hinata Shouyou.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hinata works at 7-11. Kageyama remembers parts of their friendship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i left all these like bits of dialogue at the ends of the chapters when I was writing this, mostly to make myself laugh. some of them are actually important.

Hinata Shouyou was wide eyed and slack jawed, one arm pointing fiercely at Kageyama. His work uniform was comically large. His loose sleeve waved in the air from the fan behind the counter and his name tag, pinned to his breast pocket, drooped to just below his chest.

“What are you doing here?” he repeated, quieter this time, but Kageyama could still feel the energy. Hinata hopped over the counter and threw his arms around Kageyama before he had a chance to gather up a response. He hugged him hard and tight, trapping Kageyama’s arms at his sides.

Kageyama politely untangled himself from the hug. He felt more than warm. He said, “Oh, you know. School.”

Hinata smiled with a contagious, easy brilliance. “Congratulations on your graduation.”

“Thanks,” Kageyama replied. He did not know whether or not to say, ‘you too.’

Hinata glanced around the store before leaning against the counter. He adjusted the blue visor atop his untamed mop of red hair. He whistled. “I can’t believe it’s already been a year.”

“Me neither.” Kageyama paused. He looked at the Hinata. At the black watch on his wrist, the plain worn white trainers on his feet, and the quirk of his eyebrow. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been good,” Hinata said, “I dropped out last year to help my mom support Natsu’s education. I didn’t regret it for a day, I was never good at school.” He shrugged. His smile didn’t falter. “You know.”

“I guess.”

Hinata’s gaze shifted to over Kageyama’s shoulder and he scrambled to get back behind the counter. The door jingled as someone approached from the outside. Kageyama stepped to moved out of their way.

“Welcome!” Hinata greeted. His energy really did sound genuine. He looked apologetic.

Kageyama nodded and wandered over to the drinks cooler. He looked briefly over his usual choices of light coffees before he found himself eyeing a yogurt drink he was fond of before he became caffeine reliant. He took the yogurt drink out and fiddled with the straw, waiting. _Mrs. Robinson_ faded out and a similar version of _Somewhere Over the Rainbow_ started up. He could hear plastic rustling and coins dropping.

“Do you have a point card?” Hinata asked. 

His voice resonated in Kageyama’s ear. He remembered that very voice interrupting the first serve of his high school career and the confused disappointment he felt when the volleyball bopped him on the head and rolled away. The start of their tentative, fiery friendship that began with that incessant and persistent voice. His body tensed, coiled to react. Even now, after a year without it.

“Thank you very much, please come again!”

The voice added color to his memories. The vibrant blue and yellow against the mellow orange of the gymnasium floors as they practiced. The pushed up sleeves of his sweats. The stark black lines of the net casting a grid on an opponent’s face. Gold buttons on their black school uniforms. Orange hair, shining with sweat above the net, poised to spike.

They had been high school teammates for two glorious years. It made sense that Kageyama would react to Hinata’s voice. It lacked the in-game urgency, but it reminded him of practice.

The off-white practice pullover sweaters and black shorts they wore. Hinata pulling a very black kneepad up a taut calf with thin blond hairs one had to squint at to see them catch the light. A skin tone a little more pink than his own on the hand directly on top of his in the team huddle. 

Kageyama almost crushed the drink in his hand. He felt his face grow hot. He looked at his reflection in the cooler and rolled his eyes at himself. He returned to the front of the store.

Hinata bowed as the customer went out the automatic doors. Kageyama approached the counter and put the yogurt drink in front of Hinata before he scrounged into his bag for his coin purse.

Hinata scanned the drink. He commented, “Some things never change.”

“I was feeling a little nostalgic, actually,” Kageyama explained.

Hinata laughed a little. He bagged the drink. “Nostalgia’s for old geezers.” 

Kageyama was handed his receipt. He looked at Hinata’s watch. Maybe Hinata noticed, because he did too.

“Say, Kageyama,” Hinata started, the name easily rolling off his tongue, “We should hang out sometime. Catch up.”

Kageyama was familiar with this exchange. It was polite. He felt suddenly lonely. He struggled to smile. “Yeah, that sounds great.”

“I’m off work in ten minutes, want to get breakfast together?” Hinata asked.

“I -,” he started to reply. He had a sea of perfectly valid excuses. Oh, there’s free breakfast offered at the dormitory cafeteria. I don’t really have that much spending money. I should probably cram for my quiz later. The reasons to not go dissolved when Kageyama met Hinata’s expectant eye. “Alright. I’ll be waiting.”

Kageyama saw a bus stop outside the store through the window. A group of tired looking people shuffled towards the 7-11. He decided to wait outside to stay out of Hinata’s way. He leaned against the bike rack and noticed a worn down bicycle locked into place with a rusted padlock. Curiosity got the best of him and he reached down to fiddle with the padlock. He forced the slides to match Hinata’s birthday and the lock popped open. He returned the lock to its original position and looked up at the sky. The sky was becoming a light purple over the hills in front of 7-11. The stars were fading.

His heart’s beating grew uncomfortable with an interruption of anxiety. The kind that made his hands shake until he clenched them into fists. He forced those fists into his pants’ pockets and took a deep breath. His chest tightened further and relaxed a notch on the exhale. Even after trying to calm himself, he felt unreasonably warm. His face burned. 

The minutes ticked by slowly, slowly. The chill vanished from the wind and the cherry blossoms swarmed in earnest. Kageyama sipped his yogurt in one long, stubborn draft, the cardboard packaging caving in on itself. He tossed the spent drink and bag into the combustibles container. He watched the hills carefully. The blazing ridge of the sun peeked from the shadow of the forested apex of the hill. Kageyama felt at ease.

The automatic doors slid open. The alert went off. 

“Good work today,” Hinata called inside.

Kageyama looked at Hinata. His face shined like the new day. His smile threatened crack at the edges.

“You waited,” Hinata cheered.

“Don’t act so surprised,” Kageyama said. He watched Hinata bend over to unlock his bicycle. “So, did you have somewhere in mind?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Eh? Someone messed with my lock.”
> 
> “How can you tell?”
> 
> “I always leave it locked on the same numbers.”
> 
> “Yeah? Which ones would those be?”
> 
> “....”
> 
> “....”
> 
> “0910.”
> 
> “Oh.”
> 
> Oh.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kageyama and Hinata go out for breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's cigarette smoking in this chapter
> 
> When I first wrote this, there wasn't a plan to ever give Hinata's girlfriend a name. I didn't think she'd be that important to the story. Originally, she was tall with short, black hair. But well, things change.

The place Hinata had in mind was a 24-hour family restaurant about a twenty minute walk from the 7-11. They walked on a winding path that followed the creek. It was a pedestrian only walkway. Hinata pushed his bike alongside Kageyama.

The horns and motors of the morning commuting traffic was only a distant rumble. The running of the stream, licking and splashing at the rocks, was the music of their walk. It was joined by the chirping and singing of birds gathering on telephone wires and branches of the gnarled and twisted cherry blossom trees. They passed dog walkers who nodded their heads and wished them good morning.

Their walk was comfortably quiet. 

An occasional remark was made about the scenery, or the passersby, or the weather. Kageyama enjoyed the view of his university grounds from the outside. He could see the track and field team practicing behind the university gymnasium. Even university teams have morning practice, don’t they? He thought. The sight of the field disappeared behind a cramped street of quaint residential houses.

As promised, the family restaurant waited right around the corner from the path. Hinata locked up his bike. He opened the door for Kageyama before entering himself.

“Oh, hey you,” the hostess greeted. “Table for two?”

“Yes, please.”

They were seated at a booth by the window in the smoking section. Kageyama put his finger on the ashtray and rattled it suspiciously. The hostess brought them over cups of water and indicated towards the button used to beckon the waitress.

“Though, I’m sure you already know that.” The hostess winked at Hinata.

Hinata blushed and rubbed at the back of his neck.

Kageyama waited until the hostess left and eyed her back while she returned to the front. He took up his water and pointed to her with one finger.

“Are you some kind of regular?” he asked. He reached from a menu.

“You could say that,” Hinata replied. He gave the menu a pointed look and reached over to press the button. “You won’t be needing that.”

He felt a little skeptical, but he returned the menu to its holder anyway. He noted that Hinata seemed a little fidgety. He was tearing little bits of paper away from his napkin and leaving them on the table. He pushed away the napkin and started turning his cup in place. He looked out the window.

Kageyama’s throat was dried of words. He took a sip of water and set his cup down. “I take it you’ll be ordering for us, then?”

Hinata’s eyes snapped to his and his smile returned. “Let me tell you, this is the best deal in town. You get two eggs any way you want ‘em, home fries, and toast for 299 yen.”

“Sounds good to me.” Kageyama figured that they liked Hinata for the free advertising.

The waitress sauntered over to the table. She was wearing white sneakers with bronze stockings beneath a knee length navy blue dress with a white collar and cuffs on the short sleeves. It was cinched around her thin waist with a tea stained white apron, the pocket bulging with pens and a pad of paper. She had blond hair tightly secured to the back of her head in a bun with a clip. Without a glance towards Kageyama, she settled on the bench opposite and buried her face into Hinata’s neck. Hinata wrapped an arm around her. His hand curled around her waist and plucked at the strap of the apron.

It occurred to Kageyama that Hinata would have come here for breakfast regardless.

“Shouyou,” she said right up against his ear, “I’m so happy to see you.”

Hinata blushed even deeper, a new kind of smile appearing on his face. Wide open, adoring eyes closed for an instant as he placed a peck on the crown on her head. They giggled.

Kageyama felt ridiculously uncomfortable. He averted his eyes to look out the window. He checked the time on his cellphone and wondered if he could tactfully excuse himself from the situation. His emotions were a jumbled mess. Hinata looked so unconditionally blissful and full of young, unstoppable love. He identified one clawing, nagging feeling as jealousy, but he could not quite pinpoint the source. Another was the cold touch of loneliness and lack of self worth that he attributed to his inability to find himself a romantic partner. But there was an unmistakable melting along the edges of joy. Happy to see his friend happy.

‘When’s the wedding?’ the part of him that wishes to be clever wanted to say.

He settled for blindly reaching for his water and tipping over a salt shaker. He caught it mid fall with a mad grab, only a dash of salt spilling onto surface of the table. The waitress took a pinch of the salt and flicked it at him.

“‘S bad luck,” she explained. 

Hinata hummed against her hair. “It is.”

“You got a cigarette?” she asked. She pulled the ashtray towards them.

Hinata withdrew his arm and dug around the front pocket of his pants. He pulled out a half empty pack of Mevius 100’s, coaxed out a cigarette and plucked it from the box with his lips. She had a lighter hidden in her apron that she used to light the cigarette. Hinata puffed briefly, taking the cigarette between his thumb and forefinger and passing it to her lips. He exhaled a small stream of smoke towards the window.

Kageyama could smell the smoke. They were menthols.

She took a long drag herself, exhaling a cloud towards Kageyama. She stopped leaning against Hinata’s shoulder and sat straight backed on the bench. She flicked the cigarette against the ashtray and rested her hand on the table.

“Who’s your friend?” she asked, conversational.

Kageyama did not really like the way that she looked at him. He really did not like the smoke stinging his eyes. Her face was nice, he guessed.

“This is Kageyama Tobio, we went to high school together,” Hinata explained, “and this is Mai. Nametsu Mai.”

Kageyama nodded his head. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“So polite,” Nametsu whispered. She turned to look at Hinata and said, “I thought you didn’t go to high school.”

“Didn’t graduate,” Hinata corrected. “I went for two years. I told you that.”

“Hm, yeah, I guess I remember something like that,” she replied. She looked back to Kageyama. “What do you do?”

“University student.”

“What year?”

“First year.”

“Whatcha studying?”

“Business.”

“Sounds boring.”

“It is.”

Nametsu brought Hinata’s wrist up to her face to look at his watch. She left the cigarette burning in the ashtray, slid out of the bench, and brought her pad out of her apron pouch, pen poised.

“The usual?” she said.

Kageyama thought it sounded like an inside joke.

“And two coffees, please,” Hinata said.

She maundered away. Hinata watched her go. He reached for her abandoned cigarette and brought it half way up to his lips. He stared at it, heaved a sigh, and rubbed it out in the ashtray.

“I’m trying not to get hooked,” Hinata mentioned, “but she doesn’t want to quit.”

“She seems nice,” Kageyama remarked with what he hoped was a diplomatic shrug.

Hinata went on to tell him the wild and unexpected tale that was their first meeting. Coffee made it to the table somewhere along the way. Kageyama listened so intently that he accidentally poured too much sugar into his coffee and ended up trading his cups with Hinata. He laughed at Hinata’s version of their first date hijinks and the roundabout way they’ve hashed it out for the past four months. Breakfast arrived, hot and delicious. Kageyama’s plate had eggs over-medium and Hinata’s had scrambled. Hinata explained that his girlfriend had a good intuition for things like that.

Even with a mouth full of eggs, Hinata continued to talk. He mentioned every individual instance of encountering another teammate on the street or out at the store or once (“You wouldn’t believe where I ran into him!”) at the only time he agreed to try a yoga class. He gulped down two cups of coffee before Nametsu cut him off.

The conversation eased Kageyama into comfort. He told Hinata about his morning, to which Hinata laughed at first before offering sympathy between snickers. He talked about the classes he was taking and about the some of the quirkier professors he had met. 

Their plates had been cleared away and their coffees drained. The sun was high in the sky when their bill was brought. Hinata left a thousand yen on the receipt tray without even checking the price. The restaurant was starting to move. There were three more waitresses, beepers buzzing, and bells ringing at the food window. People chatted at their tables and scraped silverware against plates.

Hinata’s change was brought over by the hostess, who thanked them and wished them a good day. They had to weave through a line out the front door on their way out. Kageyama was surprised they allowed them to stay for as long as they did.

Kageyama opened his coin purse as Hinata freed his bike from its post. 

“How much do I owe you?” he asked.

Hinata flung a leg over the side of his bike and sat on the seat. He let the bike roll backwards a couple of feet until he was on the cracked sidewalk. 

“How about you cover the bill next time?” Hinata proposed.

“Yeah, sure,” he agreed.

Kageyama liked the sound of that. A pleased excitement coursed through his body. He looked down at the gravel parking lot. 

“Until then,” Hinata called. He pushed off with his bike down the street opposite the path.

Kageyama waved even though Hinata wasn’t looking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Kageyama, wait!”
> 
> “Forget something?”
> 
> “Uh, yeah.”
> 
> “....”
> 
> “Your number.”
> 
> “Oh.”
> 
> Oh.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kageyama helps a woman set up a volleyball net.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> VOLLEYBALL SOON.

A few weeks passed. April became May. Wildflowers replaced the scattered cherry blossom petals. Coats were abandoned. Students laid out sheets beneath the big bowed trees and studied in sunhats or sunglasses. Some played soccer or catch or frisbee out in middle of the grassy quad between the academic buildings. Golden Week came and went as if it had never arrived to begin with.

Midterms loomed.

Kageyama started to spend more time in the offices of his professors. He could study quietly without drifting. The idea of disrespecting the professor by dozing or doodling during their office hours was reprehensible to him. A few days before examinations were to begin, Kageyama discovered that he had no more questions. He couldn’t tell if he had lost the motivation to study or if he truly had mastered the material. He dropped his backpack off in his room and decided that he would go for a walk. 

The rear entrance of the dormitory opened up into the main quad of the campus. There was a small patio with low rock wall around the entrance. A couple smokers sat on the wall chatting despite a “No smoking near entrances” sign. One paved walkway bisected the quad in front of the building. Some people chose to take the path and others walked barefoot through the grass carrying sandals.

Kageyama looked up to the sky - blue with huge, mountainous clouds drifting over the sun. The air was warm. The path took him around the front of the gymnasium.

There was someone struggling to move poles through the doorway. The door kept closing before the person had a chance to move out of the way. Kageyama trod over to the door and hit the handicap accessible button to hold open the door. He then grabbed the ends of the poles.

“Here, I’ll give you a hand,” he said.

Kageyama suddenly bore all the weight of the poles, the other end having been dropped. He fell into a squat to try and slow his inevitable drop. Annoyance flickered through his mind. He bit his lip to swallow the curse that followed as one of the poles rolled onto his shoe.

“Kageyama Tobio?” a woman asked.

It was his dorm mother. One hand covered her mouth. She wore her hair in a light blue sports headband today.

“Yes, ma’am?” he replied. He stayed near the ground, holding one pole up on his knees.

She recovered and ducked down to retrieve her end of the pole.

“Wait, you should hit the button again,” Kageyama suggested.

Without only a few drops of sweat, they managed to bring the poles out into the quad to a flagged off area. The shape and size of the marked patch of grass looked familiar to Kageyama.

“Are you setting up a volleyball net?” he asked, eyeing the layout.

“Hm? Haven’t you seen the posters for the event?” she questioned before announcing, “We’re having a Dormitory Volleyball Battle!”

‘News to me,’ Kageyama thought.

She walked up to him and craned her neck to meet his eye. “My, you’re a tall one,” she remarked. “You should be on our team!”

She was close enough that Kageyama could see her eyelashes, the light sheen of sweat on her forehead, the rhinestones on the barrette keeping her headband in place. She was wearing a homemade tie-dyed t-shirt with the dormitory’s name across the front and a number sketched on in black magic marker. Her lightly penciled brows arched in a silent plea.

Kageyama forced himself to look away. ‘Oh, hell,’ he thought to himself. He couldn’t deny that the offer was more than tempting even before she decided to sweeten the deal by giving him that look. “Okay,” he agreed.

She cheered. Her hands raised up in cute, round fists. Her hair fluttered around her neck. Her smile was wide with big incisors that only added to the beauty. 

“Just for helping me out, you can call me Misaki,” she joked, she started to walk back towards the gymnasium. “The net isn’t going to set up itself.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Kageyama answered. “I mean, Miss Misaki.”

Misaki winked at him. She said, “It’ll come naturally over time.”

About twenty minutes later, they were tightening the net into place. The net itself was ready to go. Kageyama gave a test jump to see how much of his jump had deteriorated from being ‘on the couch’ for the past couple months. He still easily cleared the net up to his chin, but the jump felt a little off. He blamed the uneven, soft ground below him. 

“That’s quite a serious face there, Kageyama,” Misaki chided. She mimicked his jump, her lips contorted into a harsh frown with her brows scrunched together. Her hands barely cleared the net.

“I don’t look like that,” Kageyama retorted. “My jump was almost a meter higher.”

She laughed at him. “You miss the point. Anyway, we need to chalk some temporary lines onto the grass here. I’ve already measured the court, we just need to make the lines.”

Kageyama was surprised. “Isn’t the net enough for a casual game?”

“Who said the game was casual?” Misaki returned.

The court was set. Misaki and Kageyama sat in the shade of a tree, sharing a bottle of water from a vending machine. The back of Kageyama’s neck felt a little burned from the fickle May sun, coming and going from behind clouds. Misaki sat with her legs stretched out, she clapped the toes of her tennis shoes together. 

“When does the first game start?” Kageyama asked, looking at his cellphone. “I want to go change.”

Misaki replied, “At 2 o’clock sharp. I’ll loan you a team shirt . Feel free to invite any friends, if you want. Though, I can’t guarantee them all a place on the court.”

Kageyama help his cellphone a little tighter and his heart started to beat a little faster. He decided to ask first, just in case. “Can I invite someone who’s not a student?”

She looked puzzled, but nodded. “I’m not a student either, you know.”

“Right, I forgot,” Kageyama admitted. He thumbed around his contacts until he reached Hinata and swiped to dial.

Misaki leaned over to look at his screen. He could feel her breath soft against the hairs of his arm. She said, “Hinata? Is she your girlfriend?”

Kageyama brought the phone up to his ear, unsettled. He felt strangely flushed and his heart had taken a flop towards his throat before settling back down into his chest. He gestured a vague negative. He heard the phone ringing in his ear. He answered, “No, no. He’s a friend from high school.”

Misaki leaned a hand onto his shoulder, face tilted towards his uncovered ear. “Is that so? Tell him hi for me, will you?”

Hinata picked up the call. “Hello?”

Kageyama wiped his sweaty hand on his pants. Misaki stood up, the heat from her fingertips faded from Kageyama’s shoulder. He regained the ability to breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Hinata? It’s Kageyama.”
> 
> “Hey, what’s up?”
> 
> “Are you free this afternoon? There’s a casual volleyball tournament going on at the university.”
> 
> “Sweet, yeah. I’m off today, what time does it start?”
> 
> “2 o’clock.”
> 
> “I’ll be there.”
> 
> “I’m kind of surprised you want to come.”
> 
> “What can I say? I’ve missed you.”
> 
> “Oh.”
> 
> Oh.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kageyama, Hinata, and Misaki participate in the dormitory volleyball tournament.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> VOLLEYBALL TODAY!

Kageyama was in his room trying to decide what to wear. His first instinct was to wear volleyball shorts from high school - the black ones that came down to his mid-thigh. He then wondered if any other men participating would be wearing regulation length shorts. He did not want to be the only man there wearing them. His next option was a pair of red shiny basketball shorts that developed more static than a tube TV. They clung to his legs in the least flattering way possible, but they were knee-length. He laid them both out on his bed and stared.

His roommate chimed in. “Whoa, Kageyama, you getting ready for a date?”

Kageyama felt his temper flare for a moment. He knew his anger was directed towards his wardrobe situation, not his presumptuous roommate. He picked the black ones because they were more comfortable. He also reasoned that he should not feel ashamed to wear sports-appropriate attire.

His next debate was whether or not he should wear knee pads. They would be on grass, after all, so a friction scrape on his knee would not be possible. He also did not want to damage his knee pads or stain them by using them on the quad. He dug around in his old volleyball bag and found a second pair of dirty white knee pads that he guessed must be from middle school. He experimented with one pad, pulling it up onto his knee.

“You know what, nevermind. I don’t want to know about your date anymore.” His roommate laughed at him from behind a comic book.

The kneepad was a little more than snug. Kageyama sighed. It only made sense that he had outgrown clothes from four years ago. He tossed his black kneepads from high school into his backpack and would don them only if he saw another player do it first. Knowing he would be given a different t-shirt on arrival, he opted for a white tank top under a hooded sweater. He took his bathroom supplies out to the corridor communal bathroom and brushed his teeth. When he was certain the bathroom was empty, he spritzed the slightest bit of cologne onto the inside of his wrist, rubbed his wrists together, and dabbed the excess onto his neck. He felt ashamed as soon as he did it. Kageyama had to remind himself that he was not actually going on a date. He toted his bathroom stuff back into his room. 

His roommate made an exaggerated sniff at the air. “Are you wearing cologne? Aren’t you at least going to tell me her name? Or am I just going to be sexiled later?”

Kageyama glared at his roommate and said nothing. He took up his backpack and stormed out of the room. 

He arrived at the lawn court around 1:15. A few groups had were starting to form under different trees around the court. The campus was relatively small, with only four dormitories: two women’s and two men’s. While the students were segregated, the dormitory staff consisted solely of women. Kageyama was unsurprised to note that he was the only man to have arrived so far. He regretted not telling Hinata to arrive early.

Misaki was patrolling around to each group with a clipboard. Trailing behind her were a few older ladies in matching tie dyed t-shirts who looked nervous and uncomfortable. There were only three other team members, Kageyama realized. The three dorm mothers that worked in his dormitory. 

‘That’s weird,’ Kageyama thought. Misaki was not unpopular with the resident students. He figured at least one other student would have been willing to participate. Then, the idea struck him. He remembered Misaki asking him if he had noticed any of her advertisements. Kageyama had just returned from the dormitory with volleyball in the forefront of his mind (mostly) and he didn’t see a single one.

He waited under a tree until his ragtag team of dormitory staff came around. Kageyama stretched absentmindedly, evaluating the competition. He bit his lip when he saw a group of boys gather near an opposing team’s gaggle of dorm mothers. They were wearing matching green t-shirts with white lettering printed on them. He placed the air about them as more of lifters than athletes. 

Kageyama sat down, put out his chest, and took his left shoe effortlessly in his right hand, then his left. He repeated the same on his other leg. Then, he inched his butt forward on the grass to get that extra centimeter of stretch between his legs and he put his hands forward. He tried to lean on his forearms.

Knowing hands found their place on his back and gently coaxed him down onto his forearms. Kageyama’s breath caught in his throat. The insides of his thighs burned uncomfortably.

“Don’t forget to breathe,” Hinata said. One of his thumbs traced a small line up Kageyama’s back.

Shivers ran down his spine to his toes. Hinata’s hands made him tense. He started to walk his hands forward even though the first step made it start to hurt. He sucked in a breath. Those hands leaned in, gram by gram, testing Kageyama’s comfort. The weight started to recede and Kageyama remembered to breathe as he returned to his former posture. The hands lingered weightlessly against his sweater for a beat longer than necessary.

“Thanks, but warn me first next time,” Kageyama requested. He brought in his legs to sit cross-legged. He tucked his hands between his legs and grabbed his feet.

Hinata sat on the ground next to him and leaned back on his hands. He rolled his head onto his shoulder to look at Kageyama and let out a breathy laugh.

Kageyama gave him a quizzical look.

Hinata waved his hand in front of his own face. “I didn’t say anything.”

Kageyama pressed. “But what were you going to say?”

“Something along the lines of-” Hinata paused, he shifted forward and started to pick at the grass. “‘-Damn, Kageyama, you smell good.’”

Before Kageyama had the time to look decently embarrassed, Misaki came up to the two of them bearing more tie-dyed t-shirts. These two seemed somewhat more hastily made, without as much effort put into the spiral on the front. Kageyama was handed number 4 and Hinata number 5.

“Thank you for joining us, Hinata,” Misaki said, smiling easily. She introduced Hinata to the team. The older dorm mothers took an immediate shine to Hinata. One ruffled his hair.

“We’re not in the first game, so let’s pay close attention and see if we can learn anything.” Misaki raised her pen up for emphasis. 

The first game started. Kageyama felt bad for the girls’ dormitory team within the third point. The boys seemed to be in a contest to see who could spike the ball the hardest. 

On the fourth powerful, unblocked spike, a dorm mother cowered away from the ball. She shouted, “How awful!”

Kageyama thought back to himself when he was in high school, even middle school. He would have treated this game exactly the same way. Every game needs to end in victory. Give it your all even if you believe your enemy is weak. That is how you show the opposing team that you respect them. 

A first year girl he recognized tried to receive a spike at an incorrect angle and ricocheted the ball into her own face. She sank to her knees and cried softly. Her dorm mothers crowded around her, producing handkerchiefs for her to dab at her bloodied lip. She was excused off the court.

Kageyama tore a fistful of grass out of the earth and started to shred the blades one by one.

“Those guys a bunch of assholes,” Hinata stated bluntly. He was standing with his arms crossed, shaking his head at their plays.

“Ref’s an amateur, too. They’re palming the ball left and right,” Kageyama commented.

The boys’ winning streak ended with a serve that flew into the net. One player chucked the ball over the net to the dorm mother who waited to serve. She looked about forty. She also looked absolutely furious. She took in her opponents locations and stances carefully. She gave herself a lead behind the serving line. She tossed the ball up with practiced ease and jumped into a perfectly formed serve. The ball curved over the net and crashed into the grass a couple inches before the line. The boys looked at the mark it left, dumbfounded. The ref hesitated to blow his whistle.

Hinata jumped over near the line, shouting, “In! It was in!” He gestured for ‘in’ with his arms.

“Hey, stay outta this!” A boy complained.

The ref signaled the point went to the girls. A chorus of screams erupted from the women around the court. Hinata’s voice joined theirs. The dorm mother went on to score another four more aces before the boys managed to return a serve. The cheers of the meager crowds brought greater crowds. Actual spectators gathered and sat on sheets or on the grass. 

Besides the one dorm mother’s spectacular serving abilities, the girls did not manage to put up that much of a fight. They lost 11-25. The boys looked smug when they approached the net for a handshake.

“Next game starts in ten minutes,” Misaki announced. “Shirts on, boys!”

Kageyama bashfully eased his arms out of his sweater and forced his team shirt on as quickly as possible. Hinata crossed his arms over his midsection and hooked his fingers under the hem of his shirt. He lifted up from there and peeled off his long sleeve t-shirt. He gave the whole court a tantalizing second and a half show of his lean, somewhat toned, torso before he pulled the tie-dyed shirt over his head. 

“Huddle up!” Misaki called.

Kageyama was in the circle between Hinata and Misaki. The faces of the other dorm mothers seemed daunted. He wished he could reassure them somehow.

“Okay, there are only five of us. This will make the game harder,” Misaki started. “Let’s not try to do anything complicated. Remember to call the ball if you’re going for it. We ladies have been practicing a couple of plays. Boys, try not to let the ball hit the ground ‘cause we’re sure as hell not diving for it. One point at a time. Hands in, let’s go on 3! 1, 2, 3 -”

“Let’s go!”

Kageyama felt fired up for the first time in a good while. They filed onto the court. He realized that he didn’t know where to stand or what position he would be playing.

“Miss Misaki!” Kageyama called.

“Yes?” Misaki asked. She was standing in what normally would be a setter’s position.

“Where do we start in the rotation?” Kageyama rushed out.

Misaki looked at the court. She then looked at him. “You’re tall so you’ll be a blocker. What’s your friend, usually?”

Kageyama paused. He was a blocker? Well, he had not mentioned any of his experience and she was correct about his altitude compared to the rest of the team. He answered, “He is usually a middle blocker.”

“Eh? Middle blocker?” Misaki looked Hinata over again. “He’s kind of short. Fine, start at 4 and 5.”

Hinata looked wounded. He objected, “I can jump!”

The referee blew his whistle to indicate the end of in-between time. The teams lined up. The opposing girls’ team consisted of students in matching pink polos and white shorts. Kageyama thought they looked like an out-of-place tennis team. The pink team won the coin toss and would be serving first.

Kageyama watched the server carefully. Her toss was a little too low. She managed to hit it upwards with a serve more like palm thrust. The ball looked like it would barely clear the net.

“Front!” Kageyama cried.

The ball collided with the top of the net and toppled over to their side. Hinata was mid-way through a dive with his palm against the grass. The ball bounced against the back of his hand and went upwards. Diving under the net was a little unorthodox for someone starting on the back row to do, but it was not a regulation game. Misaki provided him with coverage and set to the dorm mother on the left side of the net. She meagerly jumped and slapped the ball over the net. The pink team fumbled the ball with a sloppy receive and sent the ball out of bounds.

“Good job, Yuki!” praised Misaki. 

The game was back and forth with Kageyama and Hinata doing their best to receive around the other players on their team and keep the ball afloat. Misaki tossed exclusively to the other women. Kageyama started to feel restless. He exchanged glances with Hinata. They could easily overpower Misaki’s authority and seize control of the game’s direction. It became Kageyama’s turn to serve. He looked at the score. They were behind by two points. Kageyama knew he could turn this game around. The pink polos were weak receivers as a whole. Targeting any one of them would probably result in a point for his team. In his last year of high school, Kageyama had become a surgeon with his serves’ accuracy.

Kageyama tapped a nice, gentle serve over the net where it bounced harmlessly off one girl’s arms and settled into play. Hinata received the chance ball they offered and allowed the dorm mothers to use their play. Their team was ecstatic. The opposing team looked disappointed, but not crushed. Everyone was having fun. That’s what Kageyama’s goal was today. To just have fun playing volleyball again.

Their tie-dyed catastrophe of a team came through in the end, winning 25-21. The older dorm mothers looked tired. Their jumps grew weaker with each consecutive play. Misaki looked concerned for their well being. She brought them water and massaged their aching shoulders. 

“We’re up against the assholes next,” Hinata mentioned to him in an aside. Both of their shirts were already grass stained and their knees were dirtied. Hinata had a swatch of dirt smeared across his left cheek. He had hardly broken a sweat.

“The old ladies are done,” Kageyama noted. “They only have ten minutes to catch their breath before we go back on the court.”

“We can’t let them get bullied around,” Hinata said, resolute. He glared at the boys’ team that was too busy failing at practicing setting the ball back and forth to each other.

“Miss Misaki, a word?” Kageyama beckoned her over.

Misaki, too, looked a little worse for wear. She wiped the sweat away from her forehead with a towel. She waited to hear them out.

Hinata hooked an arm around Kageyama’s neck and brought him down to his and Misaki’s level. He pointed at Kageyama’s face. He whispered, “I’m not sure if you know, but this guy’s actually a volleyball genius. I’m not half bad when we’re on the same side, either. You let us know when we can go off our chains. We don’t want to be stomping on anybody’s toes.”

Misaki looked back at her tired co-workers. She nodded, resigned. “Alright.” Then, she pouted, snapping, “Why didn’t you say so in the first place? You guys were so lazy last game. I expect 100% from here on out. Don’t you worry, I’ll let you know when you can go off.”

Misaki decided to go with the same starting lineup as the last game. She also motioned for the ladies to stand a little closer than necessary to the net to make it easier for Hinata and Kageyama to receive in their stead. 

“Bring it here!” Hinata taunted. He lowered himself into position and bounced on the balls of his feet.

The boys’ current server spit on the ground before he tossed the ball up. He hit the ball with a wide angle, vaguely towards Hinata, but curving towards the boundary line. Kageyama hesitated.

“It’s in!” Misaki cried.

Hinata shifted in front of the serve and caught it a moment late, sending it flying backwards. 

Kageyama sprinted after it. He jumped over a row of screaming spectators and bumped the ball back towards the court. It certainly was not clean enough for a spike, but it should make it back over the net. Kageyama made a mad dash back towards the net. He watched their setter set up an easy-read play: a toss to the center of the court. Kageyama waited, them jumped. He extended his arms to loom over the edge of the net. The spiker had not considered hesitating. His attack bounded off Kageyama’s outstretched arms and slammed into the ground.

The first point was theirs. Their team met in the middle for a round of high fives. They rotated and Kageyama moved to the front. They missed their serve.

“Don’t mind, don’t mind,” encouraged Misaki.

The sun emerged from behind the clouds. Kageyama’s team was on the eastern side of the court and the late afternoon sun created colored splotches in the middle of their vision. The opposing team was unhindered. Their serve was good and Hinata scrambled to receive while squinting at the silhouette of the ball. He caught the ball on the outside of his right forearm, sending it out. His skin bloomed an ugly red. 

The boys whooped and hollered. Kageyama glanced back at Hinata, but his face was the definition of concentration. He drew in a deep breath, chest rising and falling beneath his t-shirt.

The next serve flew high and smooth over the net. Hinata battled the sunshine with time to spare and bumped the ball easily over towards Misaki.

“Kageyama!” Misaki called as she tossed the ball over to him. Nice and high, not too much angle. An every man’s toss.

Kageyama did not have time to feel surprised as his body moved knowingly. He got low with arms flung out behind him before he jumped. He took flight, knees bent, arm wound back. The spring air tousled his hair and his clothes. He took careful note of the attempted block directly in front of him and slammed the ball down as a cross, aiming for the patch of green between the rows of players. One opponent fell to his knees reaching out for the ball almost an entire second too late. He landed on sure feet. His hand tingled pleasantly from the impact.

“Nice one, Kageyama,” Hinata cheered before adding, “Me next, Misaki!”

Kageyama felt himself smiling. He received scattered applause from the crowds. He heard murmurs from the other side of the next.

“That guy looks so murderous after he just wrecked you, man.”

“Shut up, it was a fluke.”

“That evil smile is no fluke.”

Kageyama grinned even harder. They rotated and Misaki moved into serving position. Misaki’s serve didn’t have much power or spin on it. It flew in graceful arc over the net where it was intercepted by a smack in the front row. The ball was sent downward at the dorm mother in front of the service area. She brought her forearms up to guard her face and succeeded in deflecting the spike.

“Rude,” the attacked dorm mother accused.

Kageyama yelled at the referee, “Are you kidding me? You can’t spike a serve!”

The referee looked up from the phone in his hand and shrugged guiltily at Kageyama. Kageyama took a confrontational step forward before he was caught around the upper arm by Hinata.

“Calm down, you knew he was worthless before we got started. We can’t complain know when we took advantage of his ignorance earlier,” Hinata reasoned quietly.

“You know,” Misaki said as she rolled the ball under the net towards the other side, “I think it’s about that time.”

Hinata beamed. “Really?”

Misaki was looking past the two of them. She glowered at the enemy team. She gave them an exaggerated thumbs down. “Fuck them up.”

Kageyama met Hinata’s eyes and found the fire already burning within them reassuring.

The sun retreated behind another cloud and shade passed over the court. Misaki restored their morale and they all prepared themselves to receive. The serve was a direct hit towards Misaki. She bumped it straight up.

“Cover me!” she yelped while taking a couple of steps back.

Kageyama stood in her place and felt like he’d returned home. He watched the ball turn slowly in midair through his parted fingers. A bead of sweat trailed down the side of his face.

“To me!” screamed Hinata. From the sound of his voice, Kageyama could tell he was in motion. He inspected Hinata’s position with a glance. 

Kageyama sent his first toss in months. His wrists and arms extended exactly how he wanted and guided the ball in a accelerated beeline towards Hinata’s swinging arm. Kageyama held his breath. He listened to the ferocious smack of Hinata’s hand against the ball and the subsequent thud against the grass on the other side of the net. A quiet settled over the court and its spectators.

Hinata’s cry of victory rang in Kageyama’s ears.

‘I’ve still got it,’ Kageyama thought, swelling with pride.

Kageyama and Hinata picked up a momentum and never lost it. They crushed the other boys’ dormitory team 25-9. When they shook hands under the net, Kageyama’s hand was grasped unreasonably hard, but he kept his composure. The losing teams cleaned up the net and the court. Misaki made Kageyama and crew gather around her for a group photo.

Kageyama was crushed between Hinata and Misaki. Hinata had one hand draped around his shoulders and the other thrust towards Misaki’s phone in an obnoxious peace sign. Misaki had her own arm against his back with her hand flat on his shoulder blade. She angled her phone as high as she could make it. Her face pressed against Kageyama’s. The camera’s flash went off. Misaki brought down the phone to check the picture.

She giggled. “It’s perfect.”

When she showed it to the group, Kageyama couldn’t help but disagree. The flash made them look oily and the grass stains on him and Hinata were too visible. Hinata’s peace sign had half obscured one of the dorm mother’s faces and he had blinked. Kageyama was looking at the wrong part of the phone during the shot and had forgotten to smile. Misaki looked pretty cute, he guessed. The three ladies agreed that they needed to share this picture on the dormitory’s facebook page. 

As the excitement died down and the sun dipped lower in the sky, the older dorm mothers needed to return to the office before dinner became available.

Dinner sounded appealing to Kageyama, who had made the mistake of skipping lunch. Misaki promised the two of them dinner as soon as she was done freshening up. 

While they waited, Kageyama brought Hinata up to his room. He offered Hinata a washcloth and a fresh t-shirt that he took gladly. His roommate was thankfully absent. Even after rinsing his head in the bathroom sink, Kageyama still felt gross and wondered if he could rush a shower. He decided against it. Hinata was sitting on his bed with his legs dangling over the edge. Kageyama’s loaned washcloth rested on his shoulders as his hair dripped freely.

“That was ridiculously fun,” Hinata reflected. He took a moment to roughly rub the towel over his head. His hair gathered in wild curls and tangles. He laughed. “The faces on those guys after our quick. That would’ve made the better victory picture.”

“I agree, we should do it again some time,” Kageyama replied. He joined Hinata on his bed. He was aware that their thighs were touching. Adrenaline dissipated slowly, leaving him sore and lethargic. He laid back on his bed.

“Don’t fall asleep on me, Kageyama,” Hinata teased, prodding him in the ribs.

Kageyama curled and protected his sensitive sides from further assault. He groaned, feeling the exertion in his shoulders already catching up to him. He rolled off his bed and lightly stretched his arms over his head.

“Guess we should head downstairs,” Kageyama announced.

They tossed their towels into Kageyama’s laundry pile and made their way down the hallway to the dorm mother’s office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “You’re not going change your shorts, Kageyama?”
> 
> “I wasn’t planning on it, why?”
> 
> “They’re probably the reason we had so many fans out there.”
> 
> “Oh?”
> 
> Oh.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kageyama, Hinata, and Misaki enjoy a victory dinner at Nametsu's diner.

The hostess had gasped when Hinata opened the door for Misaki, but her easy smile returned when she caught sight of Kageyama.

“So nice of you to stop by again, Hinata,” the hostess cooed. “I see you’ve brought a new friend along this time.”

“Hey, I have to keep this place afloat somehow,” Hinata joked. The hostess bopped him on the head with an extra silverware set from her pouch and returned to the front.

Kageyama, Hinata, and Misaki piled into a window booth in the smoking section. 

Misaki reached over Kageyama to grab herself a menu. She remarked, “Looks like you’re a regular here, Hinata.”

“You could say that,” Hinata replied. He rested his elbows on the table and nestled his chin on his hands. He smirked. “So, tell me how you two met.”

Kageyama felt the heat rising in his face. “It’s not like-”

“I work in his dormitory,” Misaki replied, interrupting him smoothly. She unfolded the menu and laid it out on the table. Kageyama felt her cross her legs under the table. Her ankle lightly grazed the back of his calf.

Hinata’s eyebrows rose. “Scandalous. You’re not a student, then?”

Misaki shook her head. “I already have a two-year degree in hospitality and I landed the job at the dormitory fresh out of graduation, but I’m hoping to be employed by a hotel someday.”

Kageyama felt confused. Sure, he and Misaki had exchanged words here and there, but the implication far exceeded their relationship. He wanted to clear the air of this misunderstanding before it became inconvenient. Though, the idea did not seem half bad. He looked Misaki over out of the corner of his eye. Her smile was genuine and shape of her cheekbones made him bite his lip. He felt his heart begin to pound. He adjusted his leg so that their legs were no longer touching.

“You’re still young, don’t give up on that,” Hinata advised.

“I’ll be 21 in a couple of months,” Misaki replied. She tucked an air-drying lock behind her ear. She wore tiny yellow star earrings.

Kageyama was a combination of surprised and relieved to hear that. Because of her position, he had assumed she was beyond his league. He would be 19 come December, himself. It was not too unreasonable.

“A perfect age,” Hinata commented, he leaned back against the booth. “What I wouldn’t give to be 20 already.”

“I should order myself a drink to taunt you,” Misaki teased. She looked down at the menu and clicked her tongue. She folded it closed. “Are you two already set to order?”

Kageyama shrugged. Misaki had offered to treat them, but he remembered his whimsical promise to Hinata. He dodged the question by pushing the button to summon the waitress. He didn’t know how to spark conversation. There were loads of things he wanted to ask Misaki, but he couldn’t seem to force them out.

Only a few seconds passed before their waitress came into view. Nametsu’s customer service visage melted into true joy when she laid eyes on their table. She skipped over to the table. Hinata patted the seat next to his and she slid in next to him. Nametsu licked her lips. Hinata pressed a kiss against her mouth. Her eyes fluttered close as she leaned in, snaking a hand up into his hair.

“Ha?” Misaki uttered. She looked as embarrassed as Kageyama felt.

Kageyama told her, “You get used to it.”

He wasn’t used to it. 

They parted, eyes gazing into each other’s. He mouthed a few words to her that Kageyama could not discern. He looked back to the other side of the table, looking satisfied at their flustered looks. He stated, “This is my better half, Nametsu Mai.”

Nametsu bowed her head, twirling her blond ponytail around one finger. “I wish I could stick around, but I’ve actually got other tables today. The usual?”

“That, and,” Hinata stopped, gesturing towards Misaki.

“I’ll have the bagel supreme,” Misaki filled in, “And a lemonade.”

Nametsu jotted a quick note down into her pad. She stood and inspected the table with a frown. “Right away, and I’ll be back with some water for the table.” She disappeared behind the waitress station.

Hinata covered his face with his hands and huffed a sigh. “I’m sorry about that,” Hinata explained. “I’ve never brought a girl here before and I was worried that she might get jealous. That was too much even for me.”

“That’s. .” Misaki trailed off, “pretty sweet of you, I think.”

“I wouldn’t have any doubts, if I were her,” Kageyama agreed. “Anyone would be able to tell just by the look on your face.”

“Shut up, Kageyama,” Hinata complained. He lightly kicked Kageyama’s shin underneath the table.

“Unexpectedly romantic idea,” Misaki said. She angled her upper body to face Kageyama. “So where are you two from?”

Kageyama and Hinata took turns recounting their history together. They talked about their high school days and their time in the Karasuno Volleyball Club. Misaki laughed in earnest at Kageyama’s infamy during his middle school years that almost carried over into his high school career until the team put him in his place. Nametsu dropped off their food in the midst of a dinnertime rush before hurrying away. The restaurant was noisy with other people’s conversation and laughter. Kageyama finished up the story about their final loss in their second year in the quarterfinals of the national tournament. The pain had faded from the loss and it felt like telling a story about an old, white scar. Hinata smiled at the end. The conversation became a lull, each eating their food with unexpected gusto.

Kageyama’s plate of over-medium eggs, homefries, and toast was accompanied by a side order of bacon today. Hinata’s had two small breakfast sausages hidden under his scrambled eggs. Misaki gushed over the deliciousness of her bagel, but speared a couple of Kageyama’s homefries away anyway. Their plates soon became empty.

Misaki slurped her last milliliter of lemonade, rattling the ice. She dabbed her lips with a paper napkin. “Were we up to the end of second year, weren’t we? What happened next?”

Kageyama knew that Hinata wasn’t ashamed that he dropped out, but he didn’t want to be the one to reveal the information. It made him a little sad, just remembering the court without Hinata. There had been that much less noise, less energy, and less light on their team without him. Kageyama still played and played his hardest, but it hadn’t felt like his hardest without Hinata by his side. His progress had become stagnant, their team’s progress had plateaued at the Inter-High tournament in the summer and went down from there. He started to receive pressure from his family and his school counselors about his future. He hated staring at the career expectations form so he decided to pursue business as the coward’s way out. 

Kageyama, overcome with his memories, had not noticed both his and Hinata’s sudden quiet. Misaki looked worried, like she’d accidentally overturned a stone to discover a resting snake.

“That’s where our history ends, actually,” Hinata said, finally. He stared into his emptied mug of coffee.

“Oh, that’s sad.” Misaki frowned.

“Yeah, it is,” Kageyama agreed, he tapped Misaki on the shoulder. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Misaki shifted to allow Kageyama to leave the booth. He headed for the men’s room. He locked himself in a stall and flipped open his cell phone. He had two text messages. The first was from his roommate, asking if the coast was clear for him to come back. The second was an automated message from the university testing their weather alert system. His roommate did not deign a response, in his opinion. He finished up in the stall and went to wash his hands in the sink. He looked at himself in the mirror and tried to will the tiredness from his expression. He splashed his face with brisk water and dried his face on his shirt.

Kageyama started to return to the table. Nametsu had left the check and was sitting on Misaki’s side of the booth, pushing her to where Kageyama had been previously sitting. They saw Kageyama walking back towards the table and Misaki blushed. Nametsu clapped her on the shoulder and left the table in Kageyama’s direction. Nametsu winked at him as she brushed by. Kageyama reached into his sweater pocket for his wallet and stood at the end of the table.

“We should probably get going,” Kageyama said as he scooped up the bill and bringing it to the front.

“Hey, wait, I said it was my treat!” Misaki protested, climbing out of the booth and latching onto his arm.

Kageyama handed the check and two 1000 yen bills to the cashier. He replied, “Not anymore.”

The three of them stood outside for a moment. The night air was cool. The noise of the restaurant was muted by the glass doors, words becoming rabble. Crickets chirped all around them.

Misaki massaged one of her hands with the other. She looked over to the campus, the highest buildings visible over the suburbs from here. She made a thoughtful noise, then bowed to Kageyama and Hinata. “Thank you for very much for today. I’ll be going ahead.”

She started down the path, her footsteps rattled the gravel. Kageyama was watching her go, a half a thought away from chasing after her.

Hinata came up to him and leaned with one hand on his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Go for her.”
> 
> “I don’t really know how.”
> 
> “Just be yourself.”
> 
> “Would that work?”
> 
> “Trust me. You’re a catch.”
> 
> “Oh.”
> 
> Oh.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kageyama and Misaki start dating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's harder to describe a lack of attraction that I thought it would be even though I've been there. "nothing" isn't quite right, is it? hmm

Kageyama ran after Misaki. He skid on the loose rocks on the dirt yet never wavered. 

Misaki turned around in surprise. 

“Kageyama, what are you doing?” she questioned.

‘I don’t know,’ Kageyama thought. He buried his insecurities. He answered, “Walking you home, if you’d permit me.”

She laughed. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

The walk along the stream from the family restaurant to Sakura University never lost its splendor. The moon was not quite full, but it was bright enough to light their way. Misaki pointed out her favorite constellation and helped Kageyama pick one out for himself. Frogs croaked and jumped into the stream with little plops when footsteps grew too close. The purple, white, and yellow wild flowers grew as high as their waists and swayed in the breeze. There was an unseen owl hooting from one of three coniferous trees. Misaki talked about her day before she’d encountered Kageyama and a couple of her favorite tales from her university days.

Misaki came to a stop on the bridge near the dormitory. She looked out over the stream. 

“When I was a first year, I saw a boy jump off this bridge into the stream in September,” she said.

Kageyama stared at the flickering reflection of the moon. It was probably only a meter and a half drop and the stream did not seem especially deep.

“It was stupid and gross,” she described. “The stream had almost come to a stop and was filled with slime and garbage. The gunk from the bottom of the stream had stained his pants and shoes from the knee down an awful black.”

Kageyama decided then that he liked her smiling face. How she wiped away a single happy tear as her laugh made her shoulders tremble. He liked how warm and soft her body was against his when she hugged him goodnight at her door. 

Overnight, Kageyama started receiving text messages in the morning asking when he would be down for breakfast. He smiled every night before when Misaki bid him to sleep well. For tests, instead of his professors' office hours, he would sit at her check-in desk and work all nighters at her side. She would distract him by poking his sides or tempting him with snacks.

The two of them would take midnight strolls to clear their heads and Kageyama would hold her hand.

After coaxing and coaching from Hinata and Nametsu, Kageyama surprised her at the tail end of her graveyard shift just as she had won yet another game of solitaire with a bouquet of roses. The other dorm mothers squealed in the office as she accepted the flowers, as red and magnificent as a rose herself.

On the hottest August evening, standing on the bridge with the cicadas screaming and the sun remorsefully setting, they shared their first kiss. A short, sweet peck full of hope and promise that Kageyama was too nervous to close his eyes for. 

Kageyama was not expecting anything in particular from this. Hinata had warned him that he might feel unusually light on his feet for days. He would feel lost and dizzy in satisfaction. Kageyama had said he was a mush and pushed his face away. 

What he certainly had not been expecting was clear: emptiness and a shade of guilt.

Misaki's lips were so soft and tasted of wintermint. She wore the yellow sundress that rippled when she walked or swayed her hips. Her happiness and excitement was palpable and radiated in the air.

Kageyama looked down at her after they parted. His own lips felt cool. Misaki was pink and her eyes glittered. He brought his hand up to cup her cheek. His jitters returned and soon they kissed again. She reached her arms around his neck and pulled her fingers through the hair on the back of his head. It felt nice. He rested his hands on her waist. 

Misaki hummed against his mouth and moved her lips to capture his. Kageyama allowed his lips to be parted and felt a little more moisture coat them with each kiss. He could smell saliva and breath.

Kageyama felt awkward and inexperienced. I must be doing something wrong, he thought. He waited until Misaki's movements stilled before he broke the kiss. Her hands lingered on his neck, tracing small circles underneath the collar of his shirt. Kageyama searched her face for an answer or an indication.

Misaki's hands stopped moving. A line of worry appeared in her forehead. She asked in a voice unfamiliar to Kageyama. Frightened, insecure. "Is something wrong?"

"No," he lied before adding a dose of truth to make up for it, "that was my first kiss." 

Her smile returned. She said, "I understand." She stood up on her tiptoes and pecked him on the outside of his cheek.

But she didn't understand. Kageyama had never lied to Misaki before. He didn't know what the truth was to tell her. 

When they kissed again, outside her room later that night, Kageyama wiped it away on his shirt sleeve as soon as she closed the door. He felt cheated and frustrated and inexplicably lonely. It crushed his heart in his chest as he curled in his bed to sleep. He didn’t reply when Misaki messaged him good night. 

In the darkness alone in his room, an impossible thought struck him like lightning. His throat went dry. He tried inhale away the pressure of anxiety building in his chest. 

Kageyama had to admit it to himself here, in the warmth of his bed where no harm could befall him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I am not attracted to Misaki."
> 
> "…"
> 
> "Oh."
> 
> Oh.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kageyama isn't that happy with his relationship. He and Hinata play some more volleyball and get invited to a party. Kageyama, Hinata, Misaki, and Nametsu go to said party together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MORE VOLLEYBALL
> 
> but really though, there is underage drinking in this chapter. there is also a small amount of violence and, depending on your moral compass, some lack of faithfulness. 
> 
> this chapter also contains one of the most embarrassing sentences I've ever written in my life and I decided not to edit it out. it remains as a cruel reminder.
> 
> lastly, chapter length is extremely varied in most things that I write. when I said in the comments that I'd update the next day, I hadn't realized that the next chapter was the length of the previous seven chapters combined. my bad.

Kageyama and Misaki's relationship did not end after his realization. 

Evenings when they would go for walks and talk about anything on their minds were exchanged for quiet cuddle sessions on Misaki's cramped bed. When he spoke his thoughts, she would smother him in kisses. They trailed lazily down the side of his face and his neck. 

When opted for silence, she told him that his warmth and musk made her sleepy. She would nap curled against him while Kageyama would stare at the speckles on the ceiling. He imagined they were the night sky. He couldn't remember the shape of Misaki's favorite constellation anymore. 

Kageyama felt like he was losing a friend. It hurt.

 

Sakura University was closed for Silver Week, a string of national holidays in the third week of September. 

It was Saturday. Other students had fled the dormitory to return to their hometowns or go on vacation. Kageyama, being relatively local, did not to go home. In his opinion, summer vacation had just ended. He could stand to take until Christmastime to face the diatribe of his parents about the B- in Microeconomics. 

Another part of his devious plan was to avoid bringing up Misaki to his parents. They asked if he had met anyone every time he checked in with them. They mentioned his rapid ascent to the golden age of 20 years old. Kageyama did not like to think about aging. He also certainly did not like to think about marriage. 

Relationships were difficult enough.

Misaki called him at 9 o'clock in the morning on the dot and roused him from a relaxed slumber. 

"Mm?" Kageyama was not quite able to form words yet. 

"Good morning," she greeted. Kageyama could hear her smile. She was always too chipper in the morning. 

"Hm."

"You missed breakfast," Misaki stated. There was an implication. Morning intonation puzzles first thing in the morning. 

Kageyama sat up and stretched his arms, trying to remember. Had he promised to join her for breakfast today? 

"I had to bend the rules to sign Hinata in without you here and he's growing impatient."

Oh, right. Energy coursed through him. He rolled off of his bed and started to search for some clothes with one hand. 

“Ah, thank you so much, Misaki. I’ll be right down,” Kageyama promised.

"Okay." Misaki hung up. 

He tossed his phone onto his pile of blankets and pulled on a pair of sweatpants. He went barefoot out into the hallway to the bathroom and gave his face a quick scrub with the cold tap water to wash away the sleep. He used his sleepshirt to wipe his face dry before discarding it into his mountain of laundry. After putting on mismatched socks, running shoes, and a clean t-shirt - the tie-dyed one, actually - Kageyama was out the door with only the key to his room and his student ID in his pocket. 

The dormitory was unusually quiet. No hair dryers, no music, no commotion of chatter from the cafeteria. Kageyama’s footsteps thumped loudly against the tiled flooring. He rounded a corner and caught sight of the dormitory office. Hinata was leaning against the shelf under the window where behind sat Misaki. 

"Hotel New Sakura?" Hinata asked. "Wow, good luck."

"Yeah, the interview is next Friday," Misaki replied. She sighed. "I really want to get this job."

'That's strange,' Kageyama thought, pausing. Misaki had not told him that she had a job interview. 

"What would Kageyama do without you here?" Hinata said. He shoved off the counter and slid his hands into the back pockets of his sweatpants. He glanced over his shoulder. “Oh, speak of the devil.”

“Hello,” Kageyama said, making his way up to the window. He squeezed his hand into the space between the glass and the counter and wiggled his fingers. 

Misaki locked her fingers with his and her lip gloss pink lips pulled into a wide, gorgeous smile that crinkled her eyes and brought her bangs lower on her face. Her other hand traced invisible patterns along his knuckles. She whispered, just for him, “Morning, handsome.”

Kageyama felt himself grow hot. His hand started to hurt where his wrist was pressed against the glass. “Good morning to you too.”

“I’ll call you later, okay?” she said. She kissed the air between them with her eyes closed to slits obscured by lashes as she did so.

Kageyama swallowed. He twisted the wrist of his free hand, cracking the joint. He gently squeezed Misaki’s hand. “Okay.”

Hinata interrupted, deepening his voice, “You two are so cute.” His voice caught on his last syllable and made him cough. 

Kageyama and Hinata left the dormitory leisurely. The sun was warm on their faces, a remnant of summer. One tree in ten agreed that it was autumn and started to yellow on their outer brims. The others trees were not quite as convinced and were content to stay as vibrantly green as they were the first day of June. The cicadas finally off and died and were remembered in the silence as a feeling of emptiness.

Hinata lightly pushed Kageyama on the shoulder. He said, “Ready. . . go!” And sprinted off down the path towards the gymnasium.

Kageyama tripped as he started to run after him. He yelled, “Cheater!”

Hinata laughed and taunted through heavy breaths their entire way to the track behind the gym, at least a stride ahead the whole way. He collapsed against the chain link fence, fingers caught. Kageyama stopped behind him and double over onto his knees. The mild air felt sweltering. His lungs burned and his left shin already ached from the abuse. 

"I won!" Hinata announced, "I wonder what that makes the score."

"That's 498 wins for you, 502 wins for me, and four ties," Kageyama replied, the numbers coming to him easily. 

Hinata let out a low whistle. "You remembered?"

'You didn't? You were the one who started keeping score!' Kageyama wanted to say. He replied, "Mostly because they were both right around 500."

"I was super bummed that you got to 500 first and swore up and down that the 1000 mark would be mine," Hinata recalled. His breath had evened out. He unlatched the gate in the fence and let himself into the track. 

"We'll see about that," Kageyama contested lightly. He pushed his shoe against one of the poles supporting the fence and leaned to stretch the backs of his knees. 

After lightly stretching, the two jogged along the track at an easy pace. They had confessed to each other a mutual lack of strenuous effort towards exercise since volleyball stopped being a daily concern and had made a pact to reverse that mindset. They walked the second lap with brisk determination. 

Hinata explained that he shared his consoles with his younger sister and often played with her. "I play a lot of rhythm games, I guess." He seemed kind of embarrassed. 

"Like the drums in the arcade?" Kageyama guessed. 

"More like the dancing ones that watch your whole body. Natsu can't get enough of them. I never beat her," Hinata admitted. He diverted from the subject. "What about you?"

"I play a couple FPS’s. I have a few free to play ones on my computer and my roommate and I occasionally duke out our differences over Playstation, but I'm not nearly as good with a controller," Kageyama said. 

"I can't really imagine you and your roommate hanging out together," Hinata interjected. 

Kageyama shrugged. "He’s not so bad. We're not exactly friends though."

Hinata mulled this over. He looked down at the track. His arms pumped at his sides with his hands flexed straight like knives. His hair had grown out of its cut and had started to curl on his neck. His longest bangs settled right at his upper lashes and bounced with each step.

“I think,” he began, drawing out the words to look for more, “we would hang out all the time.”

Kageyama tripped over his own feet. “If we were roommates?”

“Yeah. It would be a great set up,” Hinata proclaimed. “Though, I think we would have to find a copy of Mario Volleyball.”

Kageyama agreed, finding his pace again. He wondered if his heart understood that this was supposed to be the less strenuous lap. 

Ten minutes later, they both eased into a gentle walk wordlessly. Kageyama felt a final sheen of sweat exude from his skin and his t-shirt clinging to his upper back. 

Hinata used the front of his shirt to fan his stomach. “Do you get free access to the gym?” 

Kageyama hummed an affirmation.

“Do you think you could sneak me in through the back?” Hinata said. He made his way over to the glass doors with no outer handles. Hinata perched on his tip toes with his hands flat on the glass and his face pressed up against the surface. He peered through the glass. He announced, “There’s no one keeping watch! I don’t see any cameras, either.”

A familiar string of responses flowed through Kageyama’s mind. ‘If we get caught, I could lose my privileges altogether.’ ‘We didn’t bring another set of sneakers to wear inside.’ ‘Wouldn’t that technically be trespassing?’ The voices of protest were weak compared to his excitement.

“Wait here,” Kageyama commanded. “Don’t look suspicious.”

Hinata unstuck his face from the glass and jumped up in a silent cheer. He leaned against the wall by the door and whistled tunelessly. He winked at Kageyama.

Kageyama sighed and a feeling of dread knotted in his stomach. He jogged around to the front of the building and pulled out his student ID. He flashed his ID to the half asleep graduate student behind the desk who waved him through. Rock music played in the weight room and drifted into the main hall. The air smelled faintly of leather and old sweat. Kageyama, as casually as he could manage, wandered down a set of stairs towards the rear entrance. He checked over his shoulder and the coast was clear. He pushed open his door and stuck his head outside.

“Hey,” Kageyama hissed. The doors were tucked into a slight alcove. He leaned forward to see around the corner.

Hinata was mid drag on a cigarette. He met Kageyama’s eye as it came into view and he coughed out a too colossal cloud of smoke.

“What are you doing over there?” a voice called out from behind Kageyama, chilling his blood and making his ankles quake.

Kageyama turned slowly, letting the door close. There was a woman standing there. She was definitely not the same person who was miserably slurping over priced coffee at the reception desk. She was short with presence that would not allow Kageyama’s attention to waver. She was wearing volleyball shoes, black knee pads, and spandex shorts under a Sakura University Volleyball t-shirt. Her hands were on her hips.

She raised thin, dark eyebrows at him and waited for Kageyama to speak. Her hair was cropped short with her bangs pushed off either side of her forehead. 

“Do I know you?” Kageyama asked before he could stop himself. There was something about the softness in her eyes despite her tone that he found familiar.

The woman took a half a step backwards and her stance fell apart. A moment passed as she searched his face before she regained her authority. She balled one hand into a fist and pointed at Kageyama with the other. “I asked, ‘what are you doing over there?’” she repeated.

Kageyama was not a good liar. He answered, “My friend was outside for a smoke, I was about to let him back inside.”

She lowered her accusing digit and her posture softened. She said, "Tell your friend he is not supposed to smoke right outside the building. Sorry to bother you."

She started to walk away back towards the stairwell. He realized that he was near the entrance to the girl's locker room and probably looked like a lurker. He opened the door and let Hinata in. The scent of his menthols drifted in behind him. He smiled sheepishly with his hands in his pockets. 

They followed a few strides behind the woman before she abruptly turned. 

She started, "You know, I think I do know you from somewhere -" She looked at Hinata and her eyes bugged. She gasped and shouted, "Tiny Number 10!" 

Hinata objected, "I'm not that small!"

Nostalgia washed over Kageyama. It was like they were first years in high school all over again when no one in the volleyball world knew their names. Kageyama scrutinized her face further and his eyebrows knitted together in concentration. 

"So you do know me, after all," the woman concluded. "I'm Michimiya Yui. We went to high school together."

Hinata wasn't convinced. "Miss Michimiya?"

Kageyama slapped him up the back of his head. He explained, "She was the captain of the girl's volleyball team when we were first years."

"You're right," Hinata said. "She was the one who confessed to our team captain, right?"

Michimiya turned pink along the edges and waved her arms. She protested, "It wasn't like that. It was a good luck from the girls to the boys." 

"Sure it was," chimed Hinata. "So, you playing volleyball today?"

"Well, yes, I run the intramurals for the school. Let me guess." She tapped her lips twice with her forefinger. "You two are interested?"

It goes without saying that Kageyama was, in fact, interested.

Michimiya explained to them on their way up to the gym that the intramurals were for novices to the sport. She ordered Hinata and Kageyama around as they set up the net and carried a bin of balls up from a storage closet. The intramural students trickled in one by one or two by two while awkwardly carrying fluorescent water bottles or tugging at kneepads that were a size too large for them. They were mostly young women who gathered in little flocks. They wore running shoes and yoga pants and some hadn’t restrained their bangs. Men were towed in by the crooks of their elbows and looked a combination of happy and embarrassed.

Kageyama thought about inviting Misaki. He smiled to himself thinking about how this could be their new activity. If she loved it, he would have an infinite amount of gift ideas. Flowers and sweets were nice and all, but Kageyama didn’t feel any particular attachment to those types of presents.

The group did rock scissors paper to decide the teams. Kageyama and Hinata happened to both throw scissors, but Michimiya put them on opposing teams regardless.

“It’ll be good to face each other, for once,” she said.

Hinata elbowed Kageyama in the ribs. He mentioned snidely, “This is my chance to finally defeat you once and for all, Kageyama.”

Kageyama snorted and rolled his eyes. He ruffled Hinata’s hair, if only to remind him of their obvious height difference with an offhand appreciation of the softness. He returned, “You could only defeat me with me.”

“Psh, I don’t need you to defeat you,” Hinata insisted. He pulled Kageyama’s hand off of his head.

“Okay! Everyone gather into your teams and choose a captain for today,” Michimiya instructed.

Kageyama was approached by a group of five women. They spoke amongst themselves. One woman adjusted another’s bra strap. They talked in agreement of a certain snarky literature professor that they collectively couldn’t stand. He approached cautiously and introduced himself as politely as he could manage, offering a bow. They were all friendly and welcoming. He was told their nicknames.

One said, “And we’ll call you Tobio, too.”

Another replied, “That’s too cute for the serious face he’s got there.”

Kageyama was not certain if he should feel complimented or insulted. He pretended to stretch his arms instead, silently hoping that the use of his first name didn’t become a habit. The ladies discussed their game plan while they helped each other stretch. Kageyama lingered on the outskirts of their circle and listened with his mind elsewhere. He watched Hinata bounce on the balls of his feet on the other side of the net while talking to one of the boyfriends. Kageyama heard the sound of Hinata’s voice echoing off the walls and the ceiling, but was not able to discern any of the words.

The thought of playing volleyball just for the love of the sport without the drive of competition was still foreign to Kageyama. 

His teammate didn’t toss the ball high enough on her serve, again. She crushed it into the net with a curse. 

Kageyama felt himself wanting to berate her or complain that she made the same mistake. She was not skilled at an overhand serve yet and she should use her underhand one until she got better.

“Don’t worry about it,” Kageyama encouraged. “A little higher next time and you’ll have it.”

She forced a smile and nodded as she skulked back to her place in the rear row. 

The team they were against was equal to theirs in overall coordination and skill, considering how Kageyama playing a mostly supportive role. 

A scent in the air splattered his mind with vivid memories of pushing himself to move faster, to attack harder. He felt himself beginning to sweat in earnest. His arms pulled, extending farther as he leapt to block. A wayward receive about to land outside the court was interrupted by Kageyama’s fist sliding across the wooden floor. His forearm stung from the dust and the friction. 

“Over to you, Tobio!” A set was sent, arced beautifully above Kageyama. The lights behind his view of the ball reminded him of middle school. He thought about how he wanted to be accepted by upperclassmen for his competence and determination. They would call his name, expecting more than he was able to give. He needed to show what he was capable of. He needed to vault higher, smoother. His hand needed to have unmatched accuracy and sheer force. 

His height at the apex of his jump was enough to suppress any attempt of blocking his attack. The ball slammed down into an undefended corner of the court. The cheers from the girls on his own team shook him back to the present. 

“That was a really good toss,” Kageyama said, thanking the setter for the opportunity. He blushed as he was clapped on the back and returned high fives. 

The demure smirk the setter tried to cover with a modest hand was not lost on Kageyama. He was getting better at helping, he figured. Intimidation might have worked marginally well on his peers in high school, but he concluded that it would be astoundingly unseemly among casual enthusiasts. 

After scoring the previous point, it was Kageyama’s turn to serve. He copied the style of the basic overhand serve his teammate had attempted earlier and made sure to allow his toss to achieve the ideal height before he struck. He was too occupied to see if she was watching and lacked the confidence to request that she do so. He figured that if she expressed an interest, he would persist with his criticism further, but until then he could only hope to be a good example.

These were the skills Kageyama had acquired as a lame duck third year. The underclassmen were fiery and plucky and thirsted for victory during the coming year. They resented receiving admonishments or corrections from Kageyama after he decided to bench himself. Part of him still regrets that decision. He stood now on the amateur court. No spectators, no scouts, no coaches biting their fingernails and curling the roster in their fists out the corners of his eyes. He choose this. He felts emptier, knowing he could not make up for that lost time. 

Sakura University had a venerable business program and no men’s volleyball team.

Kageyama took another chance to attack the ball and forced his emotion into the curve of its trajectory. The ball hit the ground in the center of a group of players each expecting someone else to go for it. He sighed. Maybe he had spoken too soon when he had said, ‘Good riddance.’ to high school.

The game came to an end with a victory for Kageyama’s team. The high from from win was watered down. The group rotated and squared off against new teams. 

Michimiya gave a closing speech and thanked everyone for coming out. She had been one of Kageyama’s last opponents. She was a natural with good game sense who always spoke like she expected resistance. Looking at her made Kageyama yearn for his early high school days.

Hinata barged through his nostalgic bulwark. “I didn’t get to face you, but mark my words, King, I will take you down some day!”

His sweat trickled into his eyes and made them water. He recalled his and Hinata’s friendly rivalry fondly even if Kageyama only considered him a teammate instead of an adversary. 

Hinata forced himself into Kageyama’s view. He said, unsure, “You haven’t lost yet, no need to cry about it.”

“I’m not really.” Kageyama stopped and wiped his eyes. “It’s just the nostalgia.”

Hinata put his hands on Kageyama’s shoulders and looked up into his eyes, a smile too neon and flawless on his face. He told Kageyama, “Cheer up, geezer.”

“Hey!” Michimiya called out, “These nets aren’t gonna take down themselves.”

Kageyama and Hinata went into action and helped Michimiya and a gaggle of volunteers break down and clean up the courts. When all was said and done, Michimiya was in a gossip circle, laughing with her students. 

Kageyama and Hinata shared a look and shrugged. They made it to the door before they were hooked by agile fingers in the collars of their shirts.

“And where are you two hurrying off to?” Michimiya asked. “Don’t even want to invite me to lunch and rave about your glory days?”

“You looked busy,” Hinata supplied, honestly.

“Showers?” Kageyama suggested, knowing that he felt pretty gross himself.

Michimiya wiped her hands on her t-shirt. She replied, “Understandable. But how about this: my housemates and I are throwing a party tonight. You should come. It’s Silver Week, so a few old faces might make an appearance.”

“I’m down,” Hinata said, taking his cellphone from his sweats pocket.

‘Old faces?’ Kageyama’s thoughts echoed.

Hinata and Michimiya exchanged contact information. Seeing her stand next to Hinata made Kageyama notice how small Michimiya was. She could sure jump though. Kageyama’s head was still ringing from the impact of her spikes against his arms. She had not held back against him even though he was blocking by himself.

“Yui, we’re going to head down to the locker room, you coming?” a woman called from the doorway.

“That’s my cue, catch you two later,” Michimiya declared with a wink. She ran off to her friend. She beckoned, “Ah, wait for me.”

“I’ve never been a house party,” Kageyama admitted. 

The two of them left the gymnasium, Hinata holding the door open for Kageyama. He said, “I’ll give you pointer. You need a shower.”

“Thanks,” Kageyama accepted blandly. “Any other strokes of genius?”

Hinata thought for a moment. “You should probably only go if Miss Misaki can go too.”

Kageyama raised an eyebrow at him. ‘That’s a little random, isn’t it?’ he thought.

Hinata added, “I mean, I’m definitely inviting Nametsu, too.”

They left out the back door even though any attempt at stealth had been thwarted a long time ago. Hinata dug his hand into his pocket and took out his mostly spent pack of cigarettes. He looked over at Kageyama guiltily and returned the pack to his pocket.

“I don’t care,” Kageyama said. “I mean, it won’t bother me if you smoke.”

“I can’t,” Hinata grumbled, pressing his fingers to his temples. “It feels like I’m betraying you somehow.”

Kageyama started, “It’s really not that big a -”

“It is to me,” Hinata snapped. He stopped walking and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, addiction is stupid.”

Kageyama shrugged and said nothing. The nothing continued as Hinata walked him back to his dormitory. Kageyama was not made uncomfortable by the weight of the silence; He knew that the anger was not truly directed at him. 

Hinata was unlocked his bicycle with a huff.

“Talk to you later then?” Kageyama said as Hinata mounted his bike.

“Yeah.” Hinata sighed. “I’m sorry. I’ll call you. Later.”

Kageyama watched him go before going inside the dormitory. He walked by the dorm mothers’ office and didn’t see Misaki in the window.

‘Was it already that late?’ he thought, running to his room and hastily opening the lock. He scrambled through his bedsheets for his forgotten cell phone and saw an estimable collection of missed calls and text messages from Misaki. He groaned and scanned the messages trying to assess the tone of the situation.

The most recent one was, “I learned that red peppers and green peppers are actually the same plant at different points in the growth cycle today.”

Kageyama hadn’t known that either. He checked the next one from about twenty minutes earlier.

“Tried to get in touch with you for lunch. Going to Subway with a couple of friends instead, I’ll let you know when it’s too late to order something.”

Subway sounded great. He called her. 

“Hello?” Misaki answered. He could hear giggling on the other end of the line.

“Hey, it’s me. I’m sorry I missed your calls. I left my phone in my room,” Kageyama explained.

“Yeah, I know. I heard it ringing when I was standing outside your door,” Misaki said. It sounded like she was eating potato chips. There was rustling. A distant, “No, that’s my drink.” could be heard.

“Are you still at Subway?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah, we just got here.” Misaki responded. Their table was loud. Misaki was yelling as she tried to figure out what Kageyama wanted to order. He decided it was safer for his eardrums to hold the phone away from his face a good distance. Misaki told him that she’d bring him a sandwich.

Kageyama remembered Hinata’s advice. “I was invited to go to a party later. Would you like to go together?”

“What, really?” Misaki shouted. “Let’s do it! Where is it at?”

Kageyama told her what he could recall, which wasn’t much, and promised to fill her in as soon as Hinata forwarded him the information. Misaki sounded really hyped and that made him feel particularly content. He had not really pegged Misaki as a party-goer, considering all the time they spent curled up in her room instead of, say, out at parties.

Misaki popped her lips against the receiver. She said, dripping with suggestion, “I will see you later.” She hung up.

Showered and clothed, Kageyama played games on his computer with a towel around his neck as his hair air dried. Someone knocked on the door to the rhythm of jingle bells. Kageyama was in the middle of his character being deployed from the air and he was concentrating on the screen.

“It’s open,” he yelled over his shoulder before returning his attention to his computer.

Misaki let herself in. He heard her set some plastic bags (presumably his sandwich!) down on the floor before she draped herself over his shoulders, arms loosely hugging him around his neck from behind. She nuzzled the side of his head.

“You’re still wet,” she scoffed, right near his ear.

“Was the towel your first clue?” Kageyama replied, taking his hand off the keyboard to reach up and blindly stroke her cheek. He ended up running his fingers across her lips and chin, prompting a toothless bite.

“Don’t get smart with me, young Tobio,” she retorted. She unwrapped her arms and settled her hands on the tensest part of his shoulders. She dug in her thumbs through his shirt and made small circles.

Kageyama groaned in appreciation while rolling his shoulders to guide her angle to the one knot that recently ailed him. His character on the screen suffered a headshot and he did not even care. He accidentally indicated that he would like to respawn once more. She reached over his collarbone to massage his chest with her fingers. Her motions were painful in the greatest way. She returned to his shoulders as his character appeared in a helicopter for deployment once again.

“Just going to keep playing?” Misaki whined. Kageyama could sense her pout as she put more weight into her ministrations.

“I mean, if you’ll keep doing that, definitely,” he joked. His character drifted towards the battle ground via parachute. The sounds of the foray began to emit through his speakers. One fingertip pushed into a pressure point, making Kageyama’s hands jump off the keyboard and mouse. Taken off guard, Kageyama was not prepared for his chair to be pulled away from his desk or for Misaki to straddle him. 

She placed her palms on his chest and leaned in. “Still going to keep playing?” she murmured before closing the distance with a gentle kiss.

Kageyama watched her closed eyes and accepted her affections. He noticed that she was wearing a good amount more makeup with a colored eyeshadow and fake lashes on top of her usual presentation. He heard his character die in an explosion. He wondered if it was a grenade or a rocket launcher. 

Misaki’s hands started to wander. First, she pulled the towel off of his neck and dropped it on the floor. Then, she felt down his sides and beginning to slide up his t-shirt. She parted his lips with her tongue and lightly tugged upward on his shirt, beseeching.

He broke the kiss to raise his arms and helped her remove it by grabbing the slack from his back and pulling the shirt forward. Kageyama noticed that she was wearing skirt today from how her bare thighs were warm against his exposed sides. He was not very shy about being shirtless in front of Misaki anymore. The position they were in, however, struck Kageyama as a very lewd one. He felt a familiar discomfort as she descended to place wet kisses above his clavicle. He still had not quite figured out what to do with his hands. One was on Misaki’s shoulder, gripping her frilly shirt. The one dangled alongside the chair, holding his shirt off the floor. He opted to release the shirt and rest his hand on her thigh.

Misaki hummed and started to suck a hickey on his chest. Kageyama noticed that she liked to do that. He did not find that it hurt so much as to be unbearable. Since the semester had started up again, he had requested for her to avoid leaving the marks where they were visible. His roommate made fun of him. She removed her mouth from his skin with a pop that made him wince and bite his lip. She sought more kisses from him. The kisses were sloppier. Her hands started to undo his belt.

Kageyama panicked. He prayed for his roommate to return early from his vacation. He had successfully evaded these advances in the past through sheer luck. She was nibbling on his lower lip when he heard his belt slide open. He leaned away, feeling his lip get stuck in her teeth as he forced their mouths to part. 

She gave him a questioning look with fingers resting in the belt loops of his pants and her lips red and wet. 

Kageyama swallowed. He was unable to meet her eyes. He said, “I don’t want this.” He placed his hands over hers and lifted them delicately off of his pants, lacing their fingers as he did so.

“Oh, I-” Misaki was stuttering. “I didn’t realize. I’m. I’m sorry.” She stood up. She allowed her hands to be held.

Kageyama forced himself to look up at her and face her embarrassment. He kissed the backs of her hands. He whispered, “You don’t have to be sorry.”

“Are you not,” Misaki searched for the word, “ready?”

Kageyama shook his head and said, “I don’t know.” He couldn’t think of a good lie to tell her. He was sure that it would feel good and all, but he did not crave her sexual attention. It was a bit of a moral dilemma for him, since he did have a steady desire for sex that cried out in agony whenever he was in these situations. The thought was, ‘It’s just sex, right? She’s willing, so why not?’

Kageyama didn’t love her for that. It tore his heart to see her with that quivering lip and to hear her shaky sigh.

“Okay,” she breathed, “I understand.”

She was too good for him. Kageyama stood and pulled her into a hug. He spoke into her hair, caught in the smell of hairspray, “Thank you, Hana.”

Misaki melted against him and rested her cheek on his chest. Her breath tickled. The dampness from two or three loosed tears clung to his skin. She muttered, “You drive me crazy.” She escaped from the hug and roughly ruffled his hair.

Kageyama took his punishment in stride, knowing his hair wouldn’t be able to dry flat after this. 

She looked down at his discarded t-shirt and his old, scuffed jeans with disappointment. “You weren’t planning on wearing that, were you?” 

Kageyama felt like it would be a very long time before Misaki would let him have the sandwich. It only took about thirty minutes of her upending his entire wardrobe to prepare an outfit that would ‘complement’ hers. He had not even been aware that he owned the pair of slim-fit black jeans that still bore an extravagant price tag. He wondered if his mother had been trying her hand at subtlety when she helped him pack last March. 

Misaki handed him the bag from Subway and shouldered a different opaque white bag from a store he did not recognize. She gave him a peck on the cheek in farewell.

“I’ve got to go get ready, I’ll call you when I’m ready to go,” she said, heading out the door.

Kageyama snapped the tags off the jeans and tried them on. He had never been so aware of his pants sliding against his legs before, disturbing each individual leg hair on their way up. He wore her assigned shirt, too. He checked himself in the mirror. His hair was still a mess, but his clothes gave him some confidence. 

“One last thing,” he decided. He reached into his bathroom supplies and applied his cologne. His sandwich was consumed all too quickly. He pressed his fingers against the wax paper to eat the crumbs. He settled down at his computer, but found himself not in the mood to play any games. He put on some music and laid down on his bed, feeling drowsy. Kageyama checked that his ringer was on full volume, set his phone next to his pillow, and allowed himself a nap.

The sun had long since set when Kageyama was called down to Misaki’s room. She was dressed cute and impractical. The shoes looked like the future’s regret. Her hair had been curled and her face was dolled up in a completely different way from earlier. Kageyama recalls a discussion he had overheard between her and Nametsu about the distinction between day makeup and night makeup. 

“I hope you don’t mind Coke,” Misaki said, handing him a 500ml bottle of cola. She had a similar bottle of orange soda.

“Oh, thanks,” Kageyama said, taking the bottle. He went to crack the seal and found that the bottle had already been opened. He took a swig and almost spat the coke out in surprise. He swallowed with a grimace and his throat burned.

Misaki laughed at him. “I wish I could’ve taken a picture of that face.” She grabbed her phone from her tiny side bag. Still chuckling, she requested, “Okay, take another sip.”

Kageyama did. The second sip was just as dreadful as the first one. He felt the burning travel up to his cheeks as Misaki snapped a photo. The taste lingered in his mouth and he tried to wash it down by swallowing his spit. He complained, “It’s so bad.”

Misaki sipped her equally innocuous looking bottle of soda without batting an eye. “Stop whining, Mr. Kageyama,” she chastised. “You know you’re supposed to drink before you go out to a party.”

“I’m not twenty yet,” Kageyama argued. “How would I know when I’m supposed to drink when legally it should be never?”

She placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a pitying look. She said, “Oh, you poor thing.”

Kageyama sighed and forced himself to drink. They walked together along the path with linked arms. Misaki made it a game that they had to point out a constellation and if the other couldn’t name it within ten seconds, they lose and would have to sip their drink. Kageyama liked the game even though he sucked at it. Misaki’s eyes were filled with moonlight and she would extend her arm all the way out to trace the stars.

Michimiya Yui’s house was only a few blocks away from campus. It was a modest remodeled traditional home with a long gravel driveway. The bass of the music could be heard thrumming from the street. Kageyama saw Nametsu and Hinata sharing a cigarette outside the door. She was dressed up just as much as Misaki with her hair in an elaborate side ponytail. The colors Nametsu chose to wear seemed impossibly bright under the faint yellow porch light outside the front door.

Kageyama’s mind had started to swim from the alcohol. Each step felt easier than the previous. His body felt lighter and eager to move. Misaki was warm on his arm and he found himself appreciating it more than ever. She really was cute, he said to himself. He wanted to run his fingertip along her artificially darkened, long eyelashes. She stumbled on the gravel, the stiletto of her shoe sliding off a rock. Kageyama caught her underneath her arms and she regained her balance.

“You made it,” Hinata greeted as Kageyama and Misaki reached the end of the driveway.

“Hana, you look amazing,” Nametsu gushed.

“Please, I’m completely outshined by your radiance,” Misaki returned.

The women went on inside. Music and hot, thick air blasted them as the door opened.

Kageyama used his thumb to crack the knuckles of his fingers on his right hand. He finished the last drop of mystery cola mix and did not know what to do with the bottle. 

“Nervous?” Hinata asked. He was his usual self, maybe with some done to manage his hair.

“Nah,” Kageyama replied. He looked down at the bottle and added, “I think I’m drunk.”

Hinata gasped. “No way. I never thought I’d see the day.” He opened the door and motioned for Kageyama to enter ahead of him. “Well, if you don’t need a pep talk, let’s get in there.”

Parties were loud. Kageyama was overwhelmed by the sheer amalgamation of noise. Voices screamed, whispered, and chortled. Bottles clicked. People popping open cans of beer to noisily slurp the tops as they frothed. Music played. People sang along. People complained about the music. People complained about how shitty their beer was. The door to the outside opened and slammed shut as people migrated in and out from cigarette breaks or as more bodies arrived. An empty bottle fell to the tiled floor of the kitchen and shattered. People booed. Someone cursed as he tripped over a low table that was inconveniently right outside the bathroom door.

Kageyama recognized a voice. He stopped blindly following Hinata through the crowd and grabbed him around the wrist to get him to stop. He turned and searched for the source. He found it surely enough, with his hand pressed against the wall next to Misaki’s shoulder as he tilted his head upwards to meet her eye. Nametsu was waving her hand in a dismissive and apologetic way.

The man was another Karasuno Volleyball former, Nishinoya Yuu. He shouted, “Hey! What’s your name? Do you want to dance?”

Kageyama almost laughed. He could never forget that confident face or Nishinoya’s bleached blond segment of fringe left in the center of his forehead with the rest of his hair slicked upward with gel. He was wearing a gray tank top with a flannel shirt tied around his waist. He leaned in towards Misaki’s ear and she took a half a step backwards. Kageyama pushed through a circle of conversation to reach his girlfriend and dragged Hinata with him.

Hinata asked, aware of the situation, “That’s Noya, isn’t it?” He weakly fought against Kageyama’s grip. “I don’t really want to go over there.”

Nishinoya said to Misaki, “I’m Nishinoya Yuu and I think you are absolutely gorgeous.”

Kageyama clapped his hand on Nishinoya’s shoulder and glared at his smirking face. Nishinoya turned slowly and squeaked when he met Kageyama’s eye. He flattened himself against the wall alongside Misaki and caught his breath. Then, he burst into a smile.

“Yooo,” Nishinoya shouted over the music, “Kageyama, you’re just as scary as I remember. Wait, god damn, did you get even taller?” Nishinoya noticed the unwilling Hinata half-hiding behind Kageyama. “And is that Shouyou? Are you two here together?”

Hinata wrenched his arm from Kageyama’s grasp. Kageyama felt his face soften as he watched Nishinoya’s expression: one brow quirked in suggestion and a smirk in place.

Misaki looked from Nishinoya to Kageyama suspiciously.

Hinata went up to Nametsu and pulled her into a single, hard kiss that left her wide eyed. He announced, “We’re gonna go dance.” He led her away. Nametsu waved in an awkward farewell.

Nishinoya watched them go. He crossed his arms over his chest. He observed, “So that’s how it is.”

“Long time no see,” Kageyama said loudly. Misaki pushed off the wall and snuggled against his side. He put an arm over her shoulders heavily, his body moving faster than he expected.

“Ah, my bad,” Nishinoya said. He gave a slight bow. “I’m sorry if I was too bold there.”

“It’s no problem,” Misaki replied, reaching up to hold Kageyama’s limp hand, “I’m just not interested.”

Michimiya Yui pushed her way through along the wall and sloshed some beer from a paper cup onto the floor. She yelled, “ Mr. Nishinoya Yuu! A little birdie told me you were making moves on someone else’s woman.”

Nishinoya raised his hands in surrender. “Baby, you know I only have eyes for you.”

Michimiya punched him lightly in the shoulder. “Like I’d give you the time of day.” She turned to Kageyama. “Kageyama, I don’t recall saying that you could bring a girlfriend,” she teased. She took a gulp of beer from her cup. She was wearing a bold, short black dress that hugged her like a glove.

Right, he thought. They don’t know each other. He introduced Misaki to them. It was obvious that Michimiya, as a host, was making her rounds, mingling with each corner of her party. She finished her drink over small talk. Michimiya and Misaki had a lot in common and got along well. Misaki was laughing a lot.

For some reason, Kageyama felt jealous. He wished he could make Misaki laugh easily like that.

“I need a refill, anyone care to join me?” Michimiya offered.

Misaki removed Kageyama’s arm from her shoulder. “I could use another.”

“Could I see some ID?” Michimiya joked.

Misaki laughed dryly. “I’m actually turning twenty-one this year.”

They continued to chat as they pushed their way into the crowd and vanished into the kitchen. Kageyama was left alone with Nishinoya. Nishinoya pulled aside his flannel to access a flask tucked into his back pocket. He took an impressive gulp from the flask and offered it to Kageyama.

“Sorry for flirting with your girl,” Nishinoya apologized. He looked like he meant it.

Kageyama shrugged, taking the offered flask even though his buzz was going strong. He thanked Nishinoya and tried his second mystery liquid of the evening. It was wretched, hot and sweet and charred his esophagus. He felt his jaw crack with his face’s contortions. He wanted to spit on the floor. He clamped a hand over his mouth and used the other to pass the flask back. Nishinoya clapped him on the back.

“Not a whiskey fan, are you?” Nishinoya teased.

“At this rate, I don’t think I’m a fan of anything,” Kageyama admitted. 

“How about dancing?” proposed Nishinoya. He took another swig from his flask and returned it to his back pocket. He started moving his arms erratically and laughing as he stepped sideways around Kageyama.

Kageyama stepped tentatively to the beat of the song. It felt good to move. His entire body felt warm. “Maybe I could do dancing.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” cheered Nishinoya. He jumped with his fist in the air. He hopped backwards and bumped into a girl who was checking her cellphone. “Pardon me.” 

Kageyama kept to his personal square. He did his two-step and laughed. He tried to copy Nishinoya’s wild forearm swinging and lost confidence. He found Nishinoya’s movements to be fluid and intentional. 

Nishinoya swung his hips and snapped his fingers. He danced with his eyes closed and ran his hands on his clothes. He used the sleeve of the shirt around his waist to dab away his sweat between songs. His eyes opened as the first words played out of the speakers. He lunged forward, took both of Kageyama’s hands and bounced up and down.

“This is my jam, right here,” Nishinoya yelled. He swung Kageyama’s hands back and forth. “Let’s dance! For old times’ sake.”

This song was popular among the crowd. Women formed circles where they bounced and sang along, swaying their hair. Other guests danced just for the sake of it, Kageyama supposed. They lacked the intensity that was burning in Nishinoya’s eyes.

Nishinoya used Kageyama’s arm to spin himself in a circle, only stumbling on the tasseled end of the rug for a second. Kageyama yanked him back over before he jostled the girl with the cellphone again. Nishinoya wrapped Kageyama’s arm around his torso and leaned back against him. Nishinoya sought eye contact from him and rolled his body against Kageyama’s once. Kageyama’s mind went blank. He felt the hard outline of the flask underneath that flannel rub against the front of his thigh and a tickle from Nishinoya’s hair brushing against his neck. Kageyama felt his back meet the cool wall behind him. He could smell Nishinoya’s hair gel mixed with the bitter beer smell in the air. The bodies in the room swayed together and Kageyama’s vision swam. His hand itched with static, held in Nishinoya’s. Then, it was empty. Nishinoya stepped forward and became lost in his own movements again, his entire body rocking. 

Time was slowed. Nishinoya bit his lip and tucked his thumbs into his pockets to leverage each swing of his hips deeper than the last. His shirt was taut against his lean torso with a shadow of sweat developing between his shoulders on his back. He rolled his head and the silver his stud earrings caught the light.

Kageyama took an unsteady step away from the wall. He swallowed air which only served to fan the burning coal of desire in his chest. Nishinoya peered at him through half lidded eyes. Nishinoya’s lips burst into a wide, white smile and he came onto Kageyama smoothly - he used a hand to guide Kageyama’s shoulder. As Nishinoya leaned forward, he instructed Kageyama to lean back in time to the music. Kageyama had lost the beat the instant Nishinoya touched him and relied on the raucous beating of his heart to guide him. He started with one palm flat against the soft flannel covering Nishinoya’s hip and in response the hand on his shoulder ghosted up his neck to run fingers through his hair. Those fingers pressed his head down making Kageyama bent at the knee until he was nose to nose with Nishinoya. Nishinoya broke their rhythm, moving forward to put his mouth onto Kageyama’s ear.

Electricity raced down Kageyama’s body and he almost missed the whisper accompanying the motions of soft lips brushing his earlobe.

“Want to?”

A clarification was provided as a thigh pressed to his groin. Kageyama shuddered and gasped, his hand squeezed Nishinoya’s hip. Both of Nishinoya’s hands were in his hair. He felt a soft swipe of tongue on the shell of his ear.

‘Oh no,’ the last unclouded, rational part of his mind cried. Nishinoya pulled away from his ear and cupped Kageyama’s face. Kageyama’s gaze raked over Nishinoya from his hairline down the curve of his cheek, over to his wet, parted lips, and up the bridge of his nose to meet his eyes. He could taste the whiskey on Nishinoya’s breath.

Kageyama let go of him and collapsed against the wall. His face felt like it’d caught fire. 

Nishinoya’s expression went blank and his smile melted away. 

Kageyama buried his face in his hands. ‘What am I doing?’ he thought, ‘What am I letting happen?’ 

“I’m sorry,” Kageyama said weakly, forcing the words through his fingers. Where was his go-to laundry list of excuses? “I think I’ve had too much to drink.”

He forced himself to watch Nishinoya's reaction. To his surprise, he would describe the look in Nishinoya's eyes as _pity_. Nishinoya reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of notebook paper. He handed it to Kageyama. 

Kageyama took it. He felt like he was missing something. 

"I know I come on a little strong, but well-" Nishinoya looked him up and down. "-you seemed into it. That's my number, if you ever want to talk."

"Talk?" Kageyama repeated. It hadn't seemed like Nishinoya had been interested in talking. 

"Yeah," Nishinoya affirmed, "Or whatever you want, really. I'll leave you with a question to ponder: Do you really think you've just had too much to drink? You should probably go find your girlfriend. Drink water, sleep in, all that jazz."

Kageyama nodded dumbly. 

Nishinoya had already parted the crowd and taken a few steps away when he turned around. He yelled, "The note's pre-written, but that doesn't make it any less true."

Kageyama decided not to consider that as he tucked the paper into his pocket and searched the crowd clumsily from the tips of his toes. He didn't see Misaki, but he saw Hinata and Nametsu standing in the opposite corner. He stumbled towards them. His mind notes distantly that there was something off about their body language. 

Nametsu stood with her arms over her chest and her shoulders hunched. She was nodding, to herself or to Hinata, Kageyama wasn't sure. Hinata had his hands entrapping Nametsu into the corner. He gestured backwards with a pointed thumb and shook his head. There was mascara running down her cheeks in ugly black streaks.

Nametsu slapped Hinata across the face. 

Hinata recoiled and held a hand to his cheek and Kageyama stopped dead in his tracks. 

"Get away from me!" she screamed. She slapped him again.

Kageyama felt the eyes of the room looking their way. The mindless chatter turned to whispers inaudible under the cloak of music. Kageyama felt torn between intervening and knowing that it wasn’t his place. 

“What is wrong with you?” Hinata demanded. He looked about ready to raise his own hands to her. His body was tense.

Nametsu made a fist. She commanded, lowly, “Back off.”

Hinata did. He leaned against the wall and put his hands in his pockets. There was a red welt forming on his cheek from where he had been struck by Nametsu’s ring. Nametsu stormed out of the room, pushing past the speechless onlookers. Hinata stared at the floor with his face lined with stress. A single dark bead of blood oozed from his wound.

Kageyama stood next to Hinata and didn’t know what to say. He was dizzy. He swayed even as he stood still. He figured any words he wanted to say were the incorrect ones and would come out garbled regardless.

Hinata sighed. He said, “Kageyama.”

Kageyama made a noncommittal grunt of acknowledgement. 

“I’d like to rescind my advice from earlier. Don’t bring your girlfriend to parties. She’ll still be a crazy jealous bitch,” Hinata finished.

“I don’t even know where my girlfriend is,” Kageyama replied.

Hinata sniffed. “That makes two of us.” He drew in a ragged breath. His eyes were glassy.

“You don’t mean what you said,” Kageyama pointed out, “About Nametsu.”

“I may have the exact moment that I said it,” Hinata admitted. He wiped his eyes and sucked in hiss of pain as his sleeve touched his cut. He sighed again. “I’m going to go chase after her now. I’ll see you around.”

Kageyama was now alone in a corner. He decided that parties sucked. He eventually found Misaki giggling as she sat on a kitchen counter while sloppily pouring people shots from an opaque blue bottle. Michimiya was standing next to her, distributing the tiny cups. Michimiya’s face and neck were cherry red. One of the straps of her dress had fallen off her shoulder. 

“Misaki,” Kageyama called out to her. His tongue had grown lazy. Talking took twice as much effort as it usually did.

“Oh, that’s not good,” Michimiya said, observing Kageyama and frowning.

Misaki hopped off the counter and her heels crunched against the broken glass on the floor. She was remarkably more sober than Kageyama felt.

“You’re pale,” Misaki remarked.

“Hinata and Nametsu got into a fight,” Kageyama said. Nametsu’s slap reverberated in his ears.

Misaki smiled sadly. “I know. Do you want to go home?”

“Yeah,” Kageyama said, then added, “I could also go for some food.”

Michimiya cackled at that, slapping her bare thigh. She said, “Actually, I think he’s going to be just fine.”

Misaki rolled her eyes.

“Wait, may I use your bathroom before I leave?” Kageyama requested.

Misaki rolled her eyes again. Michimiya gave him directions. When they left, Michimiya hugged them both. Michimiya and Misaki exchanged numbers and Misaki promised to give volleyball intramurals more consideration.

Fifteen minutes later, Kageyama was wondering how he had ever forgotten how much he appreciated Misaki. She walked them along the road with her arm clamped around his side to give him stability. She sat him on a bench and returned shortly with a take out bag from McDonald’s. Kageyama ate like he hadn’t eaten in years. He licked the salt from his fingers and Misaki batted him playfully on the head. He heard himself babble about the positive things he could relate to the volleyball intramurals and Misaki listened patiently, nodding or laughing when appropriate, so Kageyama figured he was successfully producing some language.

Kageyama was more capable by the time they arrived at the dormitory. He held Misaki’s hand. He didn’t feel the tingling of excitement from when he held Nishinoya’s hand. It was warm and comforting. He thought hard about it as he watched Misaki wiggle his key into the look on his door. He recalled warmth, embarrassment, and anxiety as feelings associated with her affection. 

The door opened. His bed was there. His body felt heavy. He stripped on his way over to his bed. He fell against his desk when his foot got caught in the tight jeans. Misaki laughed at him and asked if he was okay. He leaned against his bed in his boxers and willed himself to have the strength to pull himself onto the mattress.

Misaki fished his cell phone out from his discarded pants and left it next to his pillow. She said, “I’ll call you to grab brunch tomorrow.”

Kageyama nodded. His eyes were incapable of staying completely open.

Misaki kissed him on the cheek. She wished him a good night and left, shutting off the lights on her way out.

Kageyama hauled his body into his bed and felt so immensely relieved to no longer have to hold himself up. He was hot, but he pulled his sheets over his body anyway. There was a twinge of discomfort in his stomach that he only offhandedly noticed. He was too tired to think. His mind replayed the images from the party as he slept, but everyone’s face kept changing. 

The door to his room opened with a bang late the next morning. Kageyama sat up in bed and regretted it immediately. His head ached and his stomach squirmed. His roommate threw his duffel bag onto his bed, the squeaking of his bedsprings like nails to a chalkboard. 

“Good morning,” his roommate sang.

Kageyama groaned and laid back down which only somewhat relieved him of the symptoms of his hangover.

“Woah, someone had a good night,” his roommate praised.

Each word compounded Kageyama’s throbbing headache. He felt saliva pooling underneath his tongue.

“Do you need the recycle bin?” he prompted.

“Shut up,” Kageyama said. 

Two hours later, Kageyama’s phone started to buzz next to his ear. He pulled the phone over under his face and swiped to answer it. His head felt better. He was uncomfortably parched. His lips and throat were dry. He licked his lips.

“Hello?” he whispered into the receiver.

“Kageyama? It’s me, Hinata.” He sounded chipper. His voice and footsteps were echoing.

“Morning,” Kageyama replied, “How are you?”

“Better, I’m leaving Nametsu’s place now,” Hinata explained. A door opened. Cars drove by.

“Are things okay?” Kageyama asked. He remembered the welt on Hinata’s face and Kageyama’s temper flared. He wasn’t so sure if he wanted them to be okay.

“More or less,” Hinata said, “Listen, what happened last night, that’s never happened before. I know it looked really bad. I saw your face and thought you were going to blow your top.”

Kageyama didn’t remember making a face. He did, however, remember a stark change in his opinion of Nametsu. And frankly, he did not really care for her anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “One thing just became another and I don’t know. I love her to death and I don’t want you to hate her because of what happened.”
> 
> “I don’t have to like it.” 
> 
> “I’m not saying you have to. It’s just, you’re my best friend and I wouldn’t be able to choose between you two.”
> 
> “Oh.”
> 
> Oh.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kageyama, Hinata, Nametsu, and Misaki play a card game. Then, Kageyama sleeps over at Hinata's house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well uh, first off, I understand that it has been quite some time since I've added to this (or written anything, sadly). got a new job that may very well be the death of me, but at least I have life insurance now. I'm only even adding this to take my mind off of work. It's Saturday! stressing about a monday-friday job on saturday should be illegal. but alas. enough about that.
> 
> thank you for reading if you made it this far.

Hinata and Nametsu acted like that one night never happened. Kageyama and Misaki attended Michimiya’s intramurals whenever Misaki wasn’t working. Kageyama never found Nishinoya’s number the morning after the party. 

Fall passed and December inched by. 

It was one of those rare nights that Hinata and Nametsu both had off from work and they were spending it gathered around the check-in desk with Kageyama and Misaki. They were playing daifugo. Kageyama had just won his second game in a row and was feeling a little confident for once. 

"Let's make a bet,” Hinata said.

Nametsu leaned in. "Ooooo, I'm down."

Misaki agreed, too. She elbowed Kageyama in the side.

He relented. "Okay, what'll it be. Loser gets everyone drinks?"

"That's so normal," Misaki complained, "I think it should have to do with Christmas!"

'Christmas?' Kageyama thought. The sound of the word made his skin crawl. 

Hinata had a look in his eye as he watched Misaki and Kageyama. Kageyama smelled trouble. He suggested, "How about the loser has his or her Christmas plans decided by the winner?"

"Sounds good to me," Misaki said. She took the cards from the middle of the table and started a thorough shuffle. The cards flapped as she flexed them into a bridge. 

"Shouyou, I like the way you think," Nametsu said.

"That better not be all you like." Hinata pinched her thigh under the table. She squeaked and kicked him under the table.

Kageyama nodded. He made a mental note to attempt to avoid coming in first place if he could help it. He was already tired of his own Christmas, let alone someone else's. 

Misaki dealt the cards evenly amongst the four players. Hinata was grabbed and checked each of his cards as they arrived to him. Kageyama waited until he had received all his cards before he looked at any of them. He left his hand out like a trap, fingers snatching any cards that slid his way. 

Misaki finished dealing and Kageyama checked his cards. His initial impression was that he had been dealt a terrible hand. A sea of cards lower ranked than a 9 were what he had to work with. As he organized, his outlook brightened. He had a pair of Kings and a couple of lower doubles. A cursory glance of his opponents expressions did not should any overwhelming confidence. He would pull through.

Nametsu was the first out. Kageyama lost. He was still holding four cards at the end. He glared at the pair of fours in his hand that he had never had a chance to play.

Nametsu cackled, a startlingly reprehensible laugh that took the table by surprise. She rapped her knuckles on the table as her laughter calmed.

Hinata laughed with her, his face pink on the edges. He reached over and took her hand. He said, "I love it when you laugh like that."

But Nametsu yanked her hand away, a secretive smile gracing her face. She swept her hand towards the men. "You two shoo. We've got some planning to do." 

Kageyama did not know whether he should feel concerned or relieved. The way the idea made Misaki's eyes light up for the first time tonight made him feel a little better. Two birds with one stone, too, for now the Christmas plans would be over and done with. They could return to being content instead of Kageyama constantly on the brink of outright frustration. 

They went upstairs to Kageyama's room. Kageyama paused outside the door, remembering how his roommate had asked when he was going to be back tonight. He tried to listen through the door and rotated his key in his hand nervously. 

"What's the hold up?" Hinata asked. "Not that I'm in a rush to invade your bachelor pad here." 

Kageyama hushed him. He then sighed and decided that the lesser of two interruptions was his best bet. He knocked on the door. He then pressed his ear against the cold plastic. 

"Oh my god, were we that loud? Was I that loud?" Kageyama heard a woman say in a panic. 

"Maybe, hold on, hide," his roommate replied.

Kageyama decided not to wait. He took Hinata by the forearm and led him down the hall and around a corner.

"I kind of feel like somewhere between a prankster and a secret agent," Hinata whispered. He pressed himself flat against the wall. 

Kageyama held his breath. The door to his room opened. Hinata leaned to peek around the corner. 

"He came outside," Hinata described, "he’s barefoot and wearing only a pair of gym shorts. Ah!"

Hinata retreated and hid behind the wall again. 

He continued, "He looked over here. My heart couldn't take it. He was also sporting a massive hickey on his collarbone. I mean, goddamn."

They walked away from his hall and popped out one of the dormitory side doors. It clicked, and locked, behind them. Their breath came in billowing white gusts. The dirt was frozen and hard beneath their feet. 

"Now what?" Hinata asked. 

"I don't know. He probably didn't expect me back until morning," Kageyama replied. 

Hinata rubbed his hands together and stomped his feet. "Whatever we do, it's gotta get my blood flowing. I am not dressed for this."

He really wasn't. He was wearing a blue pullover fleece advertising the US Air Force, a pair of straight cut khakis, and a pair of carpenter boots designed for fashion not function. Kageyama was equally as unprepared.

"We could beg the girls to let us come back," Kageyama suggested. He could already feel the cold seeping into his shoes.

"Definitely not," Hinata vetoed. He brought his hand to his chin in contemplation. He said, "I've got it! We can just crash at my house."

"You sure?" Kageyama clarified. He had never been invited over to Hinata's home before. Not even when they were in high school. 

"I wouldn't offer if I wasn't," Hinata said. "It's a bit of a hike by foot though. Can you ride on bike pegs?"

Kageyama had only ridden on someone else's pegs once. It resulted in a scrape along his elbow so severe that he still had the scar. That was almost ten years ago.

"I can give it my best shot," Kageyama replied. He trusted that Hinata would be more experienced than his childhood neighbor. 

"That's the spirit. We'll hop on once we're off the university campus."

Hinata unlock his bicycle and hissed when his unprotected fingertips met metal. They were shivering before they reached to the stream. Kageyama bit down to stop his teeth from audibly chattering. He felt his nose running. He checked his pocket for a pack of tissues. No luck.

"Why are we waiting again?" Kageyama inquired. He tried to discreetly wipe his nose on the inside of his shirtsleeve, felt embarrassed, and settled for sniffling loudly instead. 

Hinata mounted his bike right on the path and shrugged. He put his bare hands on the back of his neck, between his collar and his skin. He said, "Well, riding this way is illegal and there are usually cops near campus."

'Then maybe we shouldn't do this,' Kageyama thought. "Then let's make this quick."

"Here, you take the seat and put your feet on the rear axle," Hinata explained, "We're going to launch together, taking this left down the hill first."

Kageyama started to feel uneasy when he looked down the hill. He squinted to see if there were any ice patches, but Hinata's headlight only illuminated so far. 

"You're going to have to hold onto to me, Kageyama," Hinata directed, "Nametsu usually holds me around my waist. She insists it's more effective for balance."

"Well-" Kageyama slid his arms around under Hinata's. "-if she insists." 

“Ready?” Hinata counted down and they both kicked off the ground. The bicycle coasted easily down the hill, pawl clicking as Hinata stood up on the pedals. The motion blew Hinata’s hair into Kageyama’s face, tickling his cheeks. He stared down at the ground moving beneath them. He saw little pebbles being thrown by the grip of the bike’s tires. He found exhilaration even as his ears numbed over and he should be watching out for police cars. His fingers were feeling the brunt of the added frigid wind and he tightened his grip on Hinata’s sweater, hoping to block some of the incoming air.

Hinata hummed in amusement. "She usually insists on hiding her hands underneath my shirt, too." 

“Who am I to argue with the expert?” Kageyama said as he slipped his cold hands up his sweater. Hinata’s skin was burning hot and his stomach muscles clenched.

The bicycle swerved dangerously towards the railing between the path and the lake as Hinata’s squealed, “Kageyama! It’s so cold.” It was delightfully high-pitched and undignified. Hinata gripped his wrist with one hand and yanked, the other righted the bike as the path evened out.

Kageyama relented and exposed his hands to the elements once more. He wondered how his face could still heat up even flying down the street on a bicycle on a bitterly cold December night.

The rest of the ride was unusually quiet, just the sound of the bike workings, the wind in his ears, and Hinata’s labored breathing.

The Hinata household was on the second floor of an apartment building. Hinata locked up his bike next to an aging sky blue Honda with about a dozen air fresheners hanging off the rearview mirror. Kageyama was led inside and up carpeted stairs. The stairwell smelled of fresh paint and cigarette smoke. Hinata bounced up the stairs two at a time. Kageyama's fingers prickled as feeling returned to them. 

Hinata fiddled with his keys outside a plain white door with a fake green wreath hanging crookedly. The bells on the wreath jingled hollowly as Hinata eased the door open. The inside of the apartment was dark. They kicked off their shoes. Kageyama silently accepted the only matching pair of house slippers. His heels hung off the end, but they were warmer than his damp socks. 

They tip-toed through a messy living room. Worksheets, notebooks, and a half emptied pencil case were left out on the low, square table in the center of the room. Hinata brought Kageyama into the kitchen and turned on a single lightbulb hanging low from the ceiling. The counters were clear save for two plates of food covered in plastic wrap. Each had a little post it note in the middle. One said, "Shouyou." The other, "Mai." 

Hinata ripped the plastic off the plates and put one in the microwave. He offered the other plate to Kageyama. "Hungry?"

"Sure, thank you," Kageyama replied. 

The microwave whirled to life, the spinning dinner clanging against the wall of the microwave with each revolution. Hinata ducked into the living room and began clearing the table by collecting all the papers in an inexact pile. He left them outside a door in the hallway.

Kageyama whispered, "You know, I think the microwave is negating any of your attempts at stealth."

Hinata ducked under the table to gather spilled writing implements and argued, "I can't help the microwave, though."

Hinata brought the pencil case over to the front of the door, too. He hurried back over to the microwave and pulled it open with fifteen seconds left on the timer. The food was steaming and filled the room with a savory aroma. He pulled a pair of mismatched chopsticks from a recycled container of ricotta cheese with faded English lettering. 

Kageyama was handed the plate and ushered to the table. The plate thankfully cool around the brim. He sat and stared at the food in front of him, waiting with the chopsticks held in one hand. He heard the microwave kick on again.

"Do you want something to drink?" Hinata asked, sticking his head through the doorway. The single light from behind made him a shadow. "I can put up some tea. We have coffee, but it's instant. I think we have some orange juice."

"Coffee's fine."

Hinata muttered something to himself indistinguishable through the noise of the microwave. A sink was turned on, left on for a few moments, and then turned off. A kettle clanged against a metal stovetop. The microwave turned off with an ear piercing signal that held until the door was pried open. 

Hinata rejoined Kageyama in the living room. He sat across from Kageyama. The two quietly said their thanks for the food and started to eat. 

"Wasn't this for Nametsu?" Kageyama asked guiltily. 

Hinata shrugged. "She has a 3 AM shift tonight and wasn't planning to come over. My mom always makes her dinner. 'So she feels like she's one of the family.' That kind of thing."

"Your mom must really like her," remarked Kageyama. He couldn't imagine his own mother even leaving dinner out for him at this point. 

Hinata put down his own mismatched chopsticks and held his chin, thinking of what to say. "Well, she certainly doesn't dislike Nametsu. This is actually a recent development," Hinata corrected.

"Oh?" 

"Ah, it's kind of embarrassing," Hinata started. "I have been talking about being really serious with her. With Mai."

Kageyama had never heard him refer to her by her first name before. 

"I mean, forever serious," Hinata finished. One hand was up scratching the base of his neck. He was looking off into the darkness and smiling. 

"You and Nametsu are getting married?" Kageyama sputtered. A couple of grains of rice flew from his mouth onto the table. He clapped a hand over his mouth after a small apology.

"Well, not tomorrow, but someday. Someday soon," Hinata hoped. He sighed.

"Wow." Kageyama was conflicted. Hinata, married? They were only nineteen years old, Hinata worked at 7-11 and lived with his mother, and they've been together for less than a year. This had young, foolish mistake written all over it. And yet, Kageyama found himself feeling happy for him. For Hinata's big dumb smile whenever Nametsu walked into the room, for the way she made him laugh every day even with only a text message. 

Kageyama swallowed his now tasteless food and his appetite left him. He pushed his food around on his plate and thought to himself. He also felt a little lost. When he thought about what his future might hold, Kageyama could only imagine still seeing Hinata on the regular. The guilt that had been buried for a past few months resurged. 

"That's it?" Hinata asked. He didn't sound angry, only perplexed. "I tell you the biggest worry of my short life and that's all you have to say about it?"

Kageyama cleared his throat. He wondered if he was treading on thin ice. "Honestly, you're an idiot."

Hinata stilled, chopsticks halfway up to his mouth. 

"You can't legally buy yourself cigarettes, you work part time at a convenience store, you live with your mom and she still makes you dinner, and you may not know Nametsu well enough to consider forever. I've seen you two fight, but it's unrealistic to consider it never happening again," Kageyama ranted. He let everything spill out. 

Hinata started to protest, "I know that-" 

Kageyama continued, "But you can't possibly be blind to all that. You are aware of your situation better than anyone. Sometimes you can gain insight from waiting from the sidelines, but the real feeling that matters and makes it all worthwhile can only be felt while you're on the court."

"What do you mean by that?" Hinata questioned. His eyes were wide open and soft.

Kageyama didn't know what he meant. He said, slowly, pointing his chopsticks at Hinata for emphasis, "Only you can decide if you're in love. If you've made that decision, all I can do is be happy for you and help you any way I can."

Hinata scooted over to Kageyama's side of the table and pulled him into a hug. Kageyama sat limply in the embrace for a couple of moments before reaching around to Hinata's back and patting him on the back. Being able to smell Hinata, the sweat from powering the bicycle, cheap fruity shampoo, a trace of menthol cigarettes, made his heart clench uncomfortably. He could feel Hinata's warmth through his clothes. The breath ghosting his neck and sent shivers across his skin. 

"You're a true friend, Kageyama," Hinata declared. "You're a guy good after all."

The kettle started to sing from the kitchen. Hinata scrambled to get it from the stove, removing himself from Kageyama. Kageyama missed the warmth the instant it departed. 

He called after Hinata in a hushed voice, "What's that supposed to mean?"

A hushed curse could be heard from the living room. Hinata returned to the room with two steaming mugs of instant coffee. Kageyama had received a volleyball shaped mug. Hinata's was a faded Mickey Mouse. Hinata sucked on his first two fingers as Kageyama blew on the surface of his coffee. 

The was something devious in Hinata's eyes, a light that flickered despite the darkness. "About your offer to help me out," he began, letting the suspense build until Kageyama had taken his first careful sip, "How about we room together?"

Kageyama tilted his cup too much as he started, burning his tongue. He wiped his lips of excess coffee on the back of his hand. He replied, "Impossible. You're not a student."

"No, no like in an apartment," Hinata corrected. He returned to eating his cooled food. 

Watching Hinata eat reignited his hunger. Kageyama continued to eat his dinner that sloshed plainly on his temporarily disabled taste buds. He used the mouthful to consider the proposal. His mind stumbled upon an obvious answer.

"I've got a pretty good gig living in the same place as Misaki," he answered half-heartedly. Even though it just meant that they hardly went out. 

Hinata pondered this. He countered, "But you would have your own room and your own space. I think you and Misaki could both appreciate that." 

"I guess so. She doesn't really like how she gets teased for dating a resident, either," Kageyama admitted. To him, the bright side would be always seeing Hinata instead of his raccoon eyed, ever-mildly hungover roommate that never seems to be taking university seriously. He imagined waking up to an actual alarm clock and wandering into the kitchen to greet a groggy Hinata wearing only sleep pants and bedhead as he slurped lukewarm instant coffee. 

"See?" Hinata sounded triumphant. "Everybody wins."

"I'll think about it. See what my parents say. They'll probably allow it if I can prove that it's cheaper," Kageyama said. He liked the smug look on Hinata's face, the smirk that persisted even as he brought his mug up to his lips. 

They talked for a bit about becoming roommates, switched over to the soon approaching Christmas as Hinata cleared and washed their plates, and changed to their dream jobs as they curled up in respective futons. 

Kageyama felt comedic in the sweats he'd borrowed from Hinata as he could feel his exposed ankles and lower shins against the cool sheet. He laid flat on his back and stared at the ceiling, thinking of Misaki and stars and their unfortunate fate. 

Hinata just kept talking, he was laying on his side with his head propped up on one elbow. He said, "You know what I always wanted to be?"

Kageyama humored him. "What's that?"

"An astronaut. Think about it! Even the atmosphere isn't a wall too high. It's drifting in infinity. The soundless expanse. I heard that somewhere, that there's no noise in space," Hinata explained. 

Kageyama yawned. His eyelids were starting to droop. He murmured, "Like there's no air for sound to travel through."

Hinata shifted, fluffing his pillow and folding it under his head. "Something like that, yeah. How about you?"

"Hmm, I don't know." Kageyama thought about high school career worksheets and his business advisor's disapproving looks. "Maybe a professional referee for the Olympic volleyball games or something."

Hinata snorted and clapped his hand on the futon. "That would be rich. Like imagine someone trying to argue your call and then seeing your scary face. Those athletes would squeak like little kids."

"Yeah, just like you used to," Kageyama reminded. 

Hinata rolled over onto his belly, reached out an arm to try to prod Kageyama in the side through the blanket, and ending up hitting him in the forearm. He complained, "Well, it's not my fault your eyes can wilt daisies."

"Hey! I was born with these eyes," Kageyama retorted. He grabbed Hinata's retreating wrist with his right hand. 

Hinata pulled, turning to his back, yanking Kageyama with him. Hinata tried to distract Kageyama with another harmless poke with his free hand to only have that wrist taken hostage too. Kageyama leaned with his weight onto both of Hinata's arms, effectively pinning him. 

"Stop with the tickling already," Kageyama warned. His blankets were mussed and wrapped around his knees where he knelt besides Hinata. Hinata gave a weak attempt at escape that ended when Kageyama added more force to his extended arms, squelching the resistance. 

"Been awhile since I've been in this position," Hinata whispered. He licked his lips. 

Kageyama's mouth went dry. He was aware of the thrumming pulse of the thin, strong wrists in his grip. Hinata thrust upward off his futon with his chest, eyes closed, lips preposterously puckered. Kageyama released him and fell onto his back. His breath came in rapid puffs and he was thankful for the only stream of moonlight illuminating the small room. 

Hinata was laughing again, the hearty chuckle louder than was appropriate for two o'clock in the morning. Words escaped. "Oh man, you gave up instantly. That's, that's unlike you." 

Kageyama shushed him. He wished he could quiet his thundering heart. "Just go to sleep already, idiot."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Idiot? That brings me back."
> 
> "To when?"
> 
> "To Karasuno volleyball, of course. What day went by that you weren't calling me an idiot?"
> 
> "What day weren't you an idiot?"
> 
> "Ah, I don't know."
> 
> "…"
> 
> "I do remember what my dream job was back then."
> 
> "Yeah?"
> 
> "It was to keep playing volleyball with you." 
> 
> "Oh."
> 
> Oh.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the day before Kageyama's birthday. Snow makes him think. Misaki's plans for him don't go quite as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still not sure about this chapter. As I scrolled on tumblr, I noticed a post that more or less said "Imagine what you're too afraid to write and write that." It motivated me to finally post this. Even though I'm afraid of how it will be received. 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading.

It was December 21st. Specks of snow drifted silently on the wind. Kageyama watched them fall out the window from his bed, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket his mother had sent him as an early birthday present. He held his phone in one hand and it buzzed eagerly every few seconds from a group chat between Hinata, Misaki, and Nametsu. 

The room reeked of aftershave. There was a small red velvet box with a silver bow on his roommate's bed. Kageyama had helped him pick the earrings out on the internet. His roommate needed to be assured the earrings were pretty forty times during the checkout process. 

Kageyama had bought Misaki a pair of silver and light blue volleyball shoes with matching socks. He would be skipping every meal that wasn't provided by the dormitory until New Year's. He had tucked the socks in the shoebox and wrapped it with free copies of the school newspaper. His roommate had helped him pick the colors. 

Misaki was coming over to Kageyama's room tonight. Misaki knew that his roommate would be out because she had become friends with the roommate's girlfriend during volleyball intramurals. Nametsu knew that Misaki was planning to come over because they planned Kageyama's super secret birthday together. Hinata knew that Misaki was planning to come over because Nametsu tells Hinata everything. Kageyama knew Misaki was planning on coming over because Hinata told him and hadn't been aware that these were super secret plans. 

So, Kageyama sat in his room pretending to act like Misaki had forgotten his birthday altogether. His roommate's nerves were beginning to rub off on him. It was eleven o'clock in the morning and his roommate had ironed his button down twice. He shined his shoes with actual shoe polish and spent twenty minutes in the bathroom getting the black stains out from underneath his fingernails. He checked his phone systematically every minute and a half, as if to make sure his date was still on. 

Kageyama wished his roommate would leave so he could clean their room. Their combustible garbage was overflowing and the aftershave desperately needed to be aired out because it was starting to give Kageyama a headache. 

Misaki and Nametsu were talking about internet nonsense in the chat. No one mentioned his birthday, Christmas, or any plans. They did not even mention him directly by name. Kageyama sighed and glanced over a slew of messages from his Mom asking about his New Year’s plans. While that usually meant that there were strenuous things needed to be done around the house, Kageyama didn’t mind. He selfishly thought that it would serve to pad the money he received for New Year’s. His parents were good people who expected great things of him. He bit his lip, contemplating the minimum amount of success required to keep them from being disappointed. 

With fear of failure weighing down his heart and nothing better to do, Kageyama sat against the wall on his bed with his textbook open. There had been a lot of readings assigned for the week and a half break. He dutifully read about an hour’s worth of time away before he found himself scanning the same line of text over and over again without comprehension. He lazily folded the corner of the page over and closed the textbook. He laid down and was asleep within moments, his palm resting on the cool cover of the book.

When Kageyama woke up, he blearily checked his phone and sighed at the thirty unchecked messages. It was three o’clock. His eyes took a quick inventory of the household tasks that he needed to do and he formulated a plan in a matter of moments. 

Kageyama remade both beds and swept the floors. He attacked the cobwebs lingering in the upper corners of the room with the end of the broom. He left the windows open. The wintry air cooled the room as he took the combustibles to the receptacle behind the building. He closed the windows and wore his slippers around the room. He borrowed his roommate’s iron and crushed the wrinkles on his own shirt. He threw it on when it was still hot, buttoning it up in the mirror. There was a healing hickey peeking out from the collar of his undershirt. Kageyama sighed and covered it with a scarf. 

Kageyama fished his winter coat from the hook on the back of the door and put on a hat. He slipped on his tennis shoes, not wanting to bother with the laces of his boots, and left his room. There were three hours left until dinner time.

Outside was nippy, which Kageyama had expected. It was snowing harder. Visibility was low, but there was little accumulation. He hid his bare hands in his soft pockets. There were skateboarders outside the dormitory. They tried to jump over emptied cans of hot coffee from a vending machine. None of them made it. 

There was a couple trying to climb into a tree. A women in a pink puffy jacket was sitting on the lowest branch in the tree swinging her feet as a man in a sleek peacoat tried to pull himself up beside her. The man’s cell phone slipped out of his coat pocket and bounced on the frozen grass. She laughed at him as he fretted over his screen.

The library doors welcome Kageyama inside with a hug of warm air. The library coffee stand was in a mid afternoon slump. The attendant rubbed her eyes and leaned on the counter. All of the baked goods in the display were marked down. Kageyama walked over to the sparse comic book section and pulled a random volume off the shelf. He sat in study cubicle and flipped through the pages, looking at the art and not reading any of the words. He did not get as excited about comic books as he did when he was in high school. He returned the book to the shelf. When he left, the attendant at the coffee stand had nodded off on her hand. 

The sky had grown darker. The gray of the clouds was so thick, the sun's location was indiscernible. The air thickened and sounds lost their echoes to the fluffy snowflakes. There was a small plow for the sidewalks stationed on standby outside the library. 

Kageyama was thinking. 

Misaki.

Her smile on both good and bad days. Her tendency to blurt or exclaim her realizations as soon as they came to her. How she was often disappointed by him - each accepting sigh when he brushed away her advances, her confusion when she caught Kageyama kissing her with his eyes open. How she takes care of him whether he’s sick or struggling. Her gentle teasing that shows she cares. 

They never fought. Especially not like how Hinata and Nametsu did. Kageyama was of the opinion that he'd rather throw himself from a window than consider raising a hand to her. There was no reason for any of that. Kageyama also never got jealous. He trusted Misaki. He thinks that she trusts him, too. He wasn't sure if he deserved it though. 

Kageyama had wandering eyes. He found himself constantly checking other people out, men and women alike. In his mind, he was trying to understand and configure his sense of attraction. 

Would I have sex with that person? Kageyama asked himself. He found the answer, after his superficial glances, was always a resounding no. It sucked and he hated it. 

Kageyama pushed those thoughts down and away. He went back inside his dormitory and was overwhelmed with the smell of curry cooking in the cafeteria. His stomach audibly complained. The dormitory always served curry the day before a vacation. He couldn’t wait. He returned to his room and sat down at his desk. There was something about having free time while you’re waiting that ruins its leisure. Kageyama let himself get tossed around in video games for about forty minutes before his salt levels rivaled that of the dead sea. He called his grandmother. She sounded so happy to hear his voice that his mood brightened. She asked him to visit sometime soon and Kageyama promised that he would.

The cooking smells were beginning to seep into Kageyama’s room. There was still an entire hour left before dinner. He dug through his closet for his battered volleyball. The weight of it in his hands and the all-too-familiar scent of leather overwhelmed his thoughts.

Hinata. 

The face Hinata makes when he sees Nametsu compared to the one he makes when he sees Kageyama. How intensely warm Kageyama felt wrapped in one his hugs. The squawk of indignation and apology Hinata makes when he misses someone's hand as he passes a customer's change and receipt. How Hinata would laugh in earnest almost every time he ever spoke to Kageyama whether it was at his face or something he said or did or just at life. And how contagious Hinata's good moods were. Hinata was an injection of happiness for him every day that their paths crossed. 

Kageyama laid down on the floor and set the ball to himself about a meter high and started a rhythm. He started to challenge his accuracy by trying to set the ball as close to the ceiling as possible without quite reaching it.

Hinata had also brought up the idea of getting an apartment together. Kageyama vibrated with excitement at the thought. He did not hate his roommate by any stretch of the word, but the idea of seeing Hinata everyday even for a moment made him smile secretly to himself. It would probably be cheaper too. Maybe Kageyama would need his own bicycle. If he had a bicycle, his availability for part time work would be increased. He couldn't find a downside to the arrangement.

One set was off the mark. The ball hit the ceiling and ricocheted onto his roommate’s bed. Kageyama sighed and stayed on the floor. He knitted his fingers together and rested them on his stomach. He glared at the point on the ceiling the ball had struck. 

Kageyama felt frustrated. He glanced up at the door to check if it was locked. There was an unopened pack of tissues underneath his bed. The room was dark with the shades closed and the overall lack of sunlight. Kageyama undid his belt and his jeans button and felt himself through his underwear.

The sad part is how he used masturbation to kill time. It helped that it was free. 

He regretted losing Nishinoya’s number. He remembers the smell of whiskey and hair gel whenever he feels breath on his ear. 

Kageyama's teeth dug into his lower lip and he covered himself with a wad of tissue in his free hand. He lifted his hips until his feet slid out of his slippers and his socked toes slipped on the tiled floor with his desperation to push higher. He was completely incapable of pacing himself or drawing it out. His mouth relaxed and let out a contented sigh. His legs weakly collapsed and kicked away his slippers. The backs of his knees, his thighs, and his lower back were hot with sweat and exertion. Kageyama basked in his afterglow for a minute before he unstuck himself from his floor. He cleaned himself up and tossed the dirtied tissue into the recently emptied combustible bin. He felt some shame looking on the lonely proof of his sexual frustration. He tore up a piece of notebook paper and threw it over the evidence. He put his volleyball away and sat at his desk again. 

Kageyama watched the minutes tick by on his computer. His stomach gurgled loudly. It still wasn't dinner time yet. 

After Kageyama finally got some food in his stomach, he felt fantastic. The curry had been magnificent after taunting him with its alluring aroma for the past hours. And, Misaki messaged him when he was in the cafeteria saying she was on her way over. He waited sitting in his chair jostling his knee up and down. 

His shirt was thoroughly inspected for brown curry stains and his hair was combed for the first time in about two weeks. The gift he had prepared was tawdry in its newspaper wrapping, but prepared nonetheless. 

The knock jingle, crisp and confidently rapped onto his door, was distinctly Misaki's. Kageyama leapt from his seat and slipped in his haste to answer the door. He took a half a breath before he opened up the door. Misaki stood there with her usual, beautiful smile outlined in red lipstick. She was toting a light backpack and a white box tied with green twine. She wore her favorite yellow sundress under a white cardigan sweater. Kageyama leaned in to give her a peck as a greeting and was stopped short by two fingers against his lips. Her nail polish matched her lipstick.

"Not just yet, Tobio," Misaki chastised. She ushered him out of the room and closed the door behind him. She said, through the door, "I have to set this up, it should only be a minute." 

Kageyama didn't mind. He smiled to himself and rested his head against the door. This was probably the best reason for temporary exile from one's room. He guessed that the box was a birthday cake from an actual bakery. That would be so Misaki, he thought, it would be such a cute idea. 

"Do you have a lighter?" Misaki called through the door. He could hear her shuffling through his desk drawers. 

"I think my roommate keeps one on the windowsill," Kageyama replied. 

"Found it!" Misaki chirped. "Okay, you may come back inside."

Kageyama opened the door and locked it behind him. His face broke into a smile he swore reached his ears. Misaki stood there, in December, in her sundress, holding a small blue birthday cake with 5 lit candles. They vaguely made the outline of a triangle. Kageyama recognized the shape as the constellation Capricorn in a night sky. 

The lights were off, but Misaki's face was illuminated by the tiny flames. 

"Happy birthday to you," Misaki sang.

Kageyama waited for her to finish singing. Her voice was shy and quiet. She kept eye contact with Kageyama, who was squirming with embarrassment and happiness. 

"Happy birthday, dear Tobio. Happy birthday to you," Misaki finished. She held cake out to him. "Make a wish." 

"I wish you the same happiness you've given me," Kageyama said easily. He blew out the candles. He kissed Misaki over the cake, the smell of snuffed candles filling his nose. 

Misaki turned on the lamp to cut the cake. They sat on his floor with their little pieces of cake. Kageyama took a fingertip of frosting and smeared it across Misaki's cheek. She squeaked in protest and wiped it away with a napkin. 

"This cake is really good," Kageyama remarked. 

"I'm glad you think so," Misaki replied. She licked her plastic fork clean, her tongue was stained blue. She dabbed at her lips with her napkin, careful not to wipe away her lipstick.

"You must've been cold when you went to get it," Kageyama commented. He took the hem of the sundress between his fingers and relished in the feeling of the thin, soft cotton. 

Misaki reached and deposited their plates into the combustibles bin. She said, "I changed when I got back. I wanted to be cute for you tonight."

"You're always cute," Kageyama claimed. He reached over and scratched the back of Misaki's head. She sighed and leaned into the touch. She lowered her head down into Kageyama's lap. Kageyama stopped for a moment. She glared at him through one open eye. Kageyama started massaging her scalp, chuckling lightly to himself. He repeated, "See? Cute."

"You distracting me isn't a part of your birthday plans," Misaki said. 

"It is now," Kageyama returned. 

Misaki sat herself up and combed her fingers through her hair. "And now it isn't. Jeez, how do you put so many knots in my hair so quickly."

"Your hair is cute even with all the knots," Kageyama stated. "Especially when I know I put them there.”

Misaki batted her eyelashes at him. "Are you saying you like me with sex hair?"

Kageyama blushed and looked at the floor. 

Misaki pulled his chin towards her. "That won't do." 

She pressed her red lips against his in a hard, wet kiss. She tasted like sugary icing and wax. Kageyama kissed her back, trying to coerce himself into believing that his love was passion. Misaki pushed him onto the floor. The coldness of the floor against his back was shamefully familiar. One of her hands snaked under his shirt and felt his belly. Her hand was small, cool, and wandering. She pulled on the elastic of his boxers and released, letting it slap against his skin. She kept kissing him, using her tongue and her teeth. 

A pause. Misaki sat up. She took Kageyama's hand and let them to the topmost button of her sweater.

"Are you sure?" Kageyama asked, feeling his hands begin to shake. He popped open the first button. 

"I'm sure," she answered. 

'Am I sure?' Kageyama thought. One by one he opened the buttons with fingers maladroit with nerves. He leaned up to push the sweater off of her shoulders. Misaki started stroking the inside of his thigh, feather light. She nibbled her bloom of a lower lip. Kageyama’s hands began to sweat, he dared not move to wipe them as she stared at him so intensely. She reached one hand behind her back. The zipper of her dress slid open, the sleeves sagged down her arms, revealing red, lacy bra straps meeting behind her neck. 

‘New?’ He swallowed.

She stood and the yellow sundress fell away, crumpling on her bare feet. Her bra and underwear were a matching set of simmering red. Her hands rested awkwardly on his thighs.

“Wow,” Kageyama managed. He knew he was supposed to say something. He was still sitting on the floor, propped up on his hands.

Misaki was timorous as she stepped out of her dress. Her breasts, her stomach, and the backs of her thighs jiggled as she moved. Kageyama liked her softness.

“You’re beautiful,” he said. And he meant it, too.

Misaki closed her eyes. “Get on the bed and quit your gawking,” she demanded.

Kageyama’s heart pounded in his chest. He bounced up onto his bed and winced at the creaking of the springs. The room became dark. Misaki released the switch on the lamp and the metal string clanged against the pole. It was quiet. Someone was showering in the bathroom across the hall. Kageyama was breathing too loudly, he put his hands on his knees, his legs dangling over the edge of his bed. He was struggling to remain calm against his torrent of thoughts.

‘Is this really happening? Right now?’ he thought. All of the tiny hairs leapt off his skin hoping to be touched.

Misaki positioned herself between his legs. Her mouth, in the darkness, looked painted on. She pried his hands off his knees and placed them on the curve of her waist.

“Tobio,” Misaki said, “I want this. I want you.”

Kageyama had no more saliva to swallow. He pulled Misaki towards him and whispered, “Okay.”

There was a theory being tossed around in Kageyama’s head that they would have all night to get around to sex. Misaki tugged at his clothes and dragged her wide tongue up the side of his neck. His button down was tossed onto his desk. One of his hands was guided to cup her breast. The lace design over the fabric of her bra was itchy. He grabbed her through it anyway. Misaki moaned lowly against his throat and shivers ran down his arms.

‘Did I do a good thing?’ he wondered. His undershirt was brusquely lifted up over his head, forcing Kageyama to unlatch himself for a moment. He didn’t see where his undershirt ended up. He was feeling that uncomfortable, overpriced undergarment with both hands. He kissed her shoulder lightly, envisioning a pool of water that shouldn’t be disturbed by ripples. The kisses he left were scattered across her chest. He decided to press one open mouthed kiss where the swipe of his tongue brushed the lace of her bra and he added emphasis with a squeeze of her breast. His face was wrenched away and brought up to hers. Misaki used sloppy kisses to distract him as she fumbled with his belt buckle. Kageyama lifted himself off the mattress to let Misaki pull off his jeans. The buckle clattered loudly against the floor.

Misaki paused and grasped the claps on the front of her bra. It silently popped open with a well-practiced twist from her fingers. Kageyama averted his eyes and felt his face burn as Misaki pulled off her bra and pressed her soft, bare chest against his. Kageyama blindly ran his hands up and down her smooth back, feeling riveted and revolted.

‘I don’t think I can do this,’ a frantic voice repeated over and over in his thoughts. The voice grew louder as Misaki pressed her palm against his underwear. Following what Kageyama only felt would be natural progression, he pushed a hand between them to touch her panties. His fingers slid down and pressed between the covered folds. The cotton was damp. Their forearms rubbed against each other as they fumbled through each other’s underwear.

Kageyama was very confused about how it felt. On the one hand, he was not necessarily uncomfortable, but on the other, as the seconds became a couple minutes, the attention served only to chafe. Her hand slid under the waistband and was warm on his skin. He felt a silent shudder shake him. Objectively, Kageyama started to feel his blood begin to flow southward. The guilt was agonizing.

Kageyama ended the kiss. He covered his belly with his forearms and looked off the side at his striped bedspread.

“Stop,” he pleaded in a whisper.

Misaki did. She jerked her hands off of him.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I can’t do this,” Kageyama said. “I’m sorry.” He held himself tighter.

“I don’t understand,” Misaki said. 

Kageyama hated himself. Hated his own denial and all the false pretenses that had led up to this moment.

She asked, in a small and fragile voice that snapped his heartstrings, “Why don’t you want me?”

She stepped away from him.

His eyes stung from holding in his tears. He sniffed. He really wanted to be clothed.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated.

"Kageyama," she started, voice dangerous low. She exhaled long and slow before continuing, lightly, "are you gay?"

The question struck him like a bolt of lightning. The candidness of Misaki that he admired so much bit him on the ass. 

She clarified, "I'll love you no matter what. But this question needs to be answered."

Kageyama dug his fingernails into his back and clamped his eyes shut. The salt water on his face felt cool on his hot face. He opened his mouth, but anything he might have said was swallowed by a panicked breath. He nodded.

For a moment, nothing happened. The microsecond before the pin breaks through the rubber balloon. Misaki burst into an ugly, barking cry.

“I knew it,” she said. 

Kageyama peeked through one eye, his heart caught in his throat. “I knew it?” he echoed softly.

Misaki was sniffling as she sifted through her bag. The secret pocket that usually just held her ipod was unzipped and her hand dug around into the furthest corner.

She was saying, “Always rejecting my advances, never stiff when we make out, never stealing glances at me when I come out from the shower or change clothes.”

It was all true. Kageyama knew Misaki was no fool. She found what she searched for, pulling a folded note from her bag. She thrust the paper towards Kageyama, her fully made up face deteriorating. 

Kageyama was reminded of that night at the party, months ago. Nametsu’s eyes had bled mascara when she struck Hinata. 

He took the paper between two fingers, careful not to brush Misaki’s. The paper was soft with wear and the lines from the looseleaf sheet were faded along the creases. He unfolded the paper and felt his heart begin to sink.

The note said, “Hey, sexy. I’d definitely like to see you again. If you feel the same, give me a call. Day or night.   
090-XXXX-XXXX  
Nishinoya Yuu”

The hidden message that Kageyama had never read was written in surprisingly elegant, clean strokes of a black fountain pen and looked . . . very incriminating.

“I found this in your pants’ pocket the night of Yui’s party,” Misaki told him. “I was so unnerved and jealous and confused that I just took it. It’s been burning a hole in my bag ever since. You never brought it up and I didn’t know what that meant either.”

Kageyama felt torn between ripping the note into shreds and preserving it. He wiped his face with his forearm so his tears wouldn’t drip off his face undignified.

“Misaki, it wasn’t like that. Nishinoya is just someone I played volleyball with from high school,” Kageyama defended. A snickering, self-defeatist voice reminded him that the misunderstanding didn’t make him any better of a person. Was it truly faithful of him to have thought of Nishinoya Yuu earlier that evening?

“Well, so am I!” Misaki argued.

“What?” Kageyama interjected. His face contorted with bewilderment.

Misaki cried harder and swiped at her running makeup with the side of her hand. She blubbered, “You really didn’t remember me? You were always so nice to me that I just assumed.”

“Remember you from where?”

“I was the Johzenji team manager your first year,” Misaki answered. “How could I forget you? The genius setter.”

Kageyama didn’t remember her at all. “I didn’t know,” he admitted. “I’m sorry.”

Misaki waved her hand dismissively. “That’s not my point. You took some guy’s number. He was obviously interested in you,” she accused.

“He said the note was prewritten,” Kageyama replied glumly, starting to feel his skin prickle with irritation. “Not like you were exactly pushing him away yourself that night.”

“Don’t even try to turn this around on me,” Misaki shouted. She stomped her foot. “This has all gone horribly, horribly wrong.”

“I’m sorry,” Kageyama said again.

Misaki drank in a breath and crossed her arms over her chest. Her sobs ceased but her tears persisted. She said, composure teetering precariously, “Look, Kageyama. I want to tell you that everything’ll be okay. I want to say that I forgive you for not being straightforward with me and we can still be friends. You’ve probably only recently discovered that you’re . . and that’s probably really scary. I want to hold you and be there for you.”

Kageyama didn’t know why he was so hopeful.

Misaki went on, “But I can’t. I’m hurt and irrational and looking at you pains me. We’re going to have to seek our own support now.”

He nodded, too shocked to speak. He drew his knees up to his chest and rested his chin between them. His toes closed around his sheets. Misaki turned away and crouched down to retrieve her sundress.

“Just so nothing is left unsaid or unclear, we . . .” She stopped for another, shuddering, breath. “. . . the two of us aren’t together anymore. We’ve broken up.”

“I understand,” Kageyama replied. 

He felt his himself hardening over, emotions only echoes with his heart plummeting down into a cold, dark sea. He wanted to lay on his side and stare at the wall.

Misaki stood, holding her dress out in front of her. “This’ll probably be the last time I ever wear this. That kind of makes me more sad.”

Kageyama didn’t have anything to say to that.

She went to step into her dress and dropped it. She pulled her sweater tight around herself. “I don’t really feel comfortable dressing in front of you.”

“I’ll leave, then,” Kageyama complied. He offered her a folded throw blanket to her to cover herself before he dressed. She took it, threw it over her shoulders, and sat in his roommate’s chair facing the wall. Kageyama walked his floor as if it were thin ice. Even dressed, he did not feel warmer or comfortable. He pulled his coat off the hook and revealed his mirror. Dark bruises bloomed on both sides of his neck. He decided to add a full winter ensemble of hat, scarf and boots that he slid into barefoot, not wanting to search for socks. He pulled the scarf up as high as it would go and zipped his coat.

Misaki was quiet. He was afraid to look at her and risk meeting her hurt, disappointed eyes. He didn’t leave right away when he grabbed the door handle. He already had his wallet, key and cellphone, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he still needed to say something.

“I really do love you,” he called, staring hard at the blank door before him.

“Thanks,” Misaki replied flatly. “You can go now.”

Even submerged in the secluded depths of the ocean, those words stung his heart. He slammed the door behind him and sprinted towards the exit of the building.

“Mr. Kageyama, slow down!” A dorm mother admonished from the office.

He ignored her.

Outside was dark and snowy. Snowflakes clung to his damp eyelashes. He trudged over the frozen ground towards the western exit of campus and briskly walked across the bridge. He tried to focus on his feet thumping against the sidewalk and his breath clouding the air instead of the stilled, iced over stream’s lack of soothing gurgles or the starless, cloudy sky overhead. He wiped his nose with his cold, bare hand and could smell an unfamiliar musk. He shuddered and rubbed his fingers against his jeans.

Kageyama regretted everything. The horrendous newspaper wrapped gift that she would never see. How he only felt completely empty kissing her mouth or her face. The taste of her tongue. How he noticed the exact tilt to her writing that made her words unique. Every star in the sky.

He thought about how it would’ve been better to have not helped her with that volleyball net last spring. He would have never felt like this. His face was beginning to smart with pain from the cold and his own whining. 

All of this was Kageyama’s fault. Part of his soul still didn’t accept it. Maybe Misaki just wasn’t “the one.” He scoffed at the idea and opted to wipe his face with his coat sleeve instead, but his coat was waterproof.

After ten minutes of walking down the street in the dark, he entered a ring of light. Kageyama was standing outside of the 7-11. The doorway chimed as he passed through. He looked over to the bike rack and saw Hinata’s bike locked into place. He walked inside. The doors parted welcomingly and wrapped him in hot, dry air. The upbeat 7-11 tune was playing a notch too loudly for this time of night. There was no one standing at the counter and the coffee dispenser reeked of coffee sludge burning onto the hot plate. A few plastic somethings fell to the floor in the unseen bread products aisle.

“Welcome!” Hinata yelled, scurrying around the corner, price sticker printer in hand. He looked Kageyama over, bemused.

“Are you okay?” Hinata asked. Concern spread over his features, starting between his brows as they scrunched to try and meet in the middle and settled for going upward.

“No,” Kageyama answered, voice cracking. “Do I look like I’m okay?”

Hinata frowned. He put his work tool on the counter and approached Kageyama. The concern was still there, though it seemed like Hinata did not know what to do with it. He raised both his hands and flicked his fingers towards himself.

“Bring it here,” Hinata said. 

Their old volleyball signal said so soft with compassion. The strong shoulder hidden under the sleeve of that 7-11 uniform was too low for Kageyama to comfortably cry on, but he did anyway. Hinata patted his back. He smelled of fryer oil and citrus shampoo.

“We broke up,” Kageyama sobbed. All slobber and mess against that warm shoulder. “It’s all my fault. I ruined everything.”

Hinata held him. Right there in the front of 7-11, for what felt like the infinite stretch of time until Kageyama sobered. His sadness had waned enough for him to feel shame. He stood and held a hand over his running nose. 

“Why don’t you go take a seat?” Hinata offered. “I’ll be right there.”

Kageyama sank into the plastic seat and rested his head on his arms. He felt like such a fool. Grown ass men don’t cry all over each other. He was still a year too young to just buy himself a cheap bottle of shōchū and cope the typical way. Kageyama heard Hinata’s footsteps. 

“Here.” Hinata placed a pack of tissues and a hot coffee on the table. He politely looked away while Kageyama blew his nose. Kageyama felt ashamed and gross and exhausted. His hands were shaking as he took the coffee.

“Thank you,” Kageyama said. The coffee was light, sweet, and burned.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Hinata questioned. 

Kageyama felt his entire head heat with embarrassment. Talk about his failure to put out to his straight friend? He drank deeply from his cup instead, the excess amount of creamer making it a bearable temperature.

Hinata tapped a finger on this table and looked out the window towards the parking lot. He said, slowly, “I kind of know what the plan was. . .”

So Hinata knew. ‘Just end me now,’ Kageyama thought. Kageyama replied, “We, uh, didn’t follow through.”

Hinata nodded as if this explained everything. The doorway chimed behind Hinata and a three loud businessmen beelined for refreshments. Hinata gave him a meaningful look of apology and duty calls.

Kageyama took out his phone and saw that he had a slew of messages from Misaki. 

The most recent one was, “You’re probably happy that you’re free to call that guy now.” He turned his phone off and pushed it to the opposite end of the table. Literally the last thing on his mind, Misaki. 

The view of behind the counter was blocked by a cigarettes display. Kageyama was not old enough for that vice, either. His gaze lingered on Hinata’s brand and found himself bothered by an image of Hinata lighting a cigarette to share with Nametsu at the diner. He lit up like someone disarming a field mine, with intense calibration and concentration. Hinata had that look pretty often. Unlocking his bicycle, right before he goes to serve a volleyball, texting, the list went on. No one thought anything of it because his focused face was almost cute, the way he would bite his lower lip or stare intently with his eyes intentionally widened.

Kageyama sighed. He looked at this phone. Losing Misaki was like having his right arm cut off. She would be who he would message right now. She had promised to wake him up early so his parents’ wouldn’t be waiting for him behind the dormitory for too long. She was his breakfast and dinner company and oftentimes his source of lunch. She was his thesaurus and his motivator during their all-nighters at the check-in desk. Now what was Kageyama going to do?

It stopped snowing. Kageyama’s feel were cold in his boots even though the room was warm. He wiggled his toes miserably. He wanted to go back to his room and get some shut-eye before the inevitable phone call he would receive from his parents in the morning berating him for sleeping in. 

The businessmen stumbled out of the store. One of them was weaving dangerously and had to be clamped into place by both of his cohorts. The left support slipped on an icy patch of pavement and toppled over, dragging the other two with him. Kageyama snorted.

“You’re already smiling!” Hinata said.

Kageyama looked up to him and saw that he was carrying two chocolate glazed doughnuts on separate sheets of wax paper.

“I wanted to be the one to cheer you up,” Hinata complained. He put one doughnut in front of Kageyama.

For some reason, the idea of needing to be cheered up made Kageyama melancholy again. He went to pick up the doughnut and recoiled in surprise when he saw the glaze, still liquid, clinging to his fingers. He shrugged and slurped the chocolate off his thumb. Hinata had taken a bite of his, smearing chocolate all around his mouth and on the tip of his nose. Hinata twisted his hand to check the watch on the inside of his wrist, chocolate dripping onto his fingers. Kageyama chuckled dryly and offered him one of the tissues from the pack. Hinata accepted it and smiled, teeth all brown with glaze. Kageyama matched the smile, which he hoped was substantially cleaner. 

Maybe it would be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “It’s midnight.”
> 
> “Is it?”
> 
> “Yeah.”
> 
> “...”
> 
> “. . . Happy birthday, Kageyama.”
> 
> “Oh.”
> 
> Oh.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's winter. Kageyama starts to move on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I remember about writing these chapters was the sheer amount of Death Cab for Cutie I listened to while I wrote them. There's a youtube video of a seamless 6-hour loop of Transatlanticism that appeared in my autoplay one day (while I lived in my spotless plain one room apartment) . .
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading.

Kageyama went home. His fading hickies were quickly noticed and started a thorough sex talk from his parents. He visited his grandma. She just laughed at him and trashed him in shogi while a marathon of a period drama played in the background for a weekend. New Year’s came and passed while Kageyama slept in his futon at his grandma’s. The New Year’s envelopes were particularly munificent. His mother mentioned that any of his new friends were welcome to come by for dinner at any time.

The dormitory did not welcome him back as the campus laughing stock. In fact, everyone treated him as blase as they did before his high profile break up with one of the dormitory staff members. He carried his duffel bag through the hallways exchanging friendly nods with his neighbors and received a heartwarming welcome from the oldest dorm mother. 

It’s when he opened the door to his room to see his roommate look up at him sympathetically that he received the first clue that anybody knew what happened between him and Misaki at all. Kageyama and his roommate exchanged New Year’s cards. His roommate also handed him a box of specialty chocolates from Hokkaido. 

“A souvenir,” he explains, “please accept it.”

Kageyama thanked him and left the box on his desk while he unpacked. His roommate headed out for dinner at precisely 6 o’clock. Kageyama had signed up for late dinner for today before vacation, knowing his family would feed him right before they dropped him off. With his clothes more or less stuffed into appropriate places in his closet, Kageyama set up his laptop next to the innocent box of chocolates. He brought his face up to his usb slot as his plugged in his mouse, wanting to make sure he got it in one try and noticed that the seal was broken on the box.

Curious, Kageyama slid open the box and was met with a yellow piece of stationary. 

In a hasty scrawl, the note said, “Kageyama, I’m sorry about what happened.” He turned the paper over and found a second message written in bubbly purple, “To Mr. Kageyama, Happy new year!!! Misaki told me she broke up with you :((((( I’m sorry! Eat some chocolate! Don’t worry they’re plenty of girls out there ~”

Kageyama zoomed in on the word girls so harmlessly jotted down and thought about it for a long time, munching on chocolates. When his roommate returned, they shared a look. Kageyama offered him a piece from the box and shrugged, hopefully with a successful look of ‘It can’t be helped.’ The roommate took one and stuffed the whole piece in his mouth.

“Wanna play xbox?” he asked around the sticky, rich mess caught in his teeth.

Kageyama did. He was glad at least one thing would still be normal around here. He took a controller and hopped onto his bed. He proceeded to get his ass whooped for a half an hour before he decided to become a dirty screen-looker and start to pick up some victories. During their last match, his roommate paused the game to receive a call from his girlfriend. He surrendered the match, spritzed himself with body spray, and checked his hair in the mirror for five solid minutes before he hit the door running. A half-forgotten goodbye echoed down the hallway.

Kageyama turned off the television and the system. He laid down on his bed. It was still too early for him to go to bed. He felt something itchy on the back of his neck. His hand reached around to scratch it and encountered a paper. His eyes closed and his heart started to beat faster because he knew exactly what that paper was. He stared at Nishinoya’s number for an indeterminate amount of time, imagining the various ways their conversation could play out.

 

It was weeks before Kageyama managed to dial his number. He had just walked out of his last final for the year with a surge of confidence and the taste of victory on his tongue. He dialed the number from his contacts and held his breath. He prayed that Nishinoya wouldn’t answer. The call connected and rang once.

“Good afternoon. You’ve reached IMC Japan’s Technical Support, Nishinoya speaking.”

This was not one of Kageyama’s planned scenarios. He opened his mouth and closed it again.

“Hello?” Nishinoya asked, “To whom am I speaking?”

It was so polite and out of character. Kageyama had been unaware that Nishinoya was capable of speaking keigo. He felt it was only fair to attempt to match his caliber of propriety.

“Ah, good afternoon. This is Kageyama Tobio. Are you currently available for a brief conversation?”

A pause. Kageyama crossed his fingers and stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, impeding the traffic away from the academic building. Students mindlessly walked around him.

“Mr. Kageyama, is it? I will be available from 12 o’clock. Would you be willing to call back at that time?”

Kageyama could hear typing on the other end of the line from a mechanical keyboard. “Yes, of course. Thank you for your time.”

“I’m truly sorry for the inconvenience. As always, thank you very much for contacting the IMC Japan Technical Support line. Have a nice day.”

The call ended. Kageyama checked the time. It was 11:50. Kageyama walked back to his dormitory in a daze. He dropped off his bookbag and stared at his phone as the minutes ticked by. He debated with himself about calling at precisely noon or if he should let a minute pass. He compromised for waiting about twenty seconds into the minute before hitting call.

The call was answered before he heard it ring. The voice was playful. “Took you long enough.”

“A lot of stuff happened,” Kageyama said, knowing it was vague and unfair.

Nishinoya laughed. “I bet. You should tell me about it over lunch. You free tomorrow?”

Tomorrow was Saturday. Kageyama felt rushed and off-kilter from the sudden change of attitude, but didn’t have the time to contemplate that. He replied, “Yeah. Want to meet up somewhere?”

Nishinoya made a thinking noise in the back of his throat. “I’m trying to think of a place close to campus. You have to walk, right?”

“Yeah.”

“How about that Main Street Diner? I hear they’ve got a good breakfast special there,” Nishinoya suggested.

“They do,” Kageyama answered before his mind could catch up and protest with ‘Anywhere but there!’ He wasn’t sure how he felt about seeing Nametsu for the first time since The Break Up seeing as he’d gone and botched all of her plans.

“Alright, then how about this time tomorrow?”

Kageyama felt like his fate had been sealed. “Yeah, sounds good.”

“Wonderful.” Nishinoya sounded absolutely delighted. It changed abruptly to exasperation. “Sorry, I’ve gotta head back to work. I’ve gotten three emails in the past minute. But at least now I’ve got something to look forward to. Until tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I understand. Bye.”

Kageyama felt like he was sparkling. He threw himself onto his bed and rolled, trying to smother the excitement that bubbled within him. He opened his messenger and went to tell Misaki all about it before he stopped cold, met with the last message he had checked before the new year. He closed the app and locked his phone.

“Old habits die hard,” he guessed. He toyed with the idea of telling Hinata, but it didn’t feel right. 

 

The giddiness returned in full force the following morning when it jolted Kageyama awake at 7:30 with a sudden fear that he’d overslept and missed his meeting with Nishinoya. He slipped on a pair of sneakers and wandered to the dining hall for a light breakfast in his pajamas. 

On his way out, while wiping the sleep from his eyes mid-yawn, he bumped into Misaki. They locked eyes for a very intense series of seconds for the first time in almost a month.

“Good morning,” Kageyama greeted with a slight bow, wanting the tension to break.

Misaki blinked. She responded, “Good morning.” And brushed past him into the cafeteria.

Kageyama shrugged and hurried back to his room. He kicked off his shoes and huddled back under his blankets. They hadn’t completely lost their warmth yet. He fell into a comfortable sleep, thinking to himself that talking to Misaki had not been so bad.

 

Walking to the Main Street Diner on the most bitterly cold day in February so far made the half an hour leisurely jaunt feel like a several eternity long crawl from the frozen depths of the abyss. The gusts cut through his jeans, scarf and hat as thought they were made of paper. The feeling was lost in his ears and nose before Kageyama set foot on the snowy gravel path. It might even be said that the day was unusually cold, with wind chills biting at 4℃ below the yearly average. Walking with iced over knee caps served only to stiffen his movements and his speed was greatly reduced. It was also impaired by the dire necessity of keeping his unprotected hands deep in his pockets, which made him considerably less balanced as he attempted to tread the icy patches of the path. There was one complete fumble during which Kageyama landed on his knees in dirty slush which soaked him through his pants to his skin.

Any trace of excitement Kageyama had had was surely extinguished by the time he reached the beckoning solace of the Main Street Diner. The hostess greeted him warmly and looked over his shoulder. She raised thin gray eyebrows in surprise.

“You came all the way out here alone on a day like this?” she asked. She invaded his space to cup his numb cheeks.

The sudden warmth revitalized his sinuses. Kageyama sniffed loudly and shook his head.

“You’re like ice,” the hostess stated. She grabbed him by the front of his coat and sat him down at the breakfast bar, She scooted through the opening between the counters and went to pour him a hot cup of coffee. She talked, facing away from him conversationally, “Come to think of it, Mai starts her shift at noon today.”

“Is that so?” Kageyama replied politely. He took the coffee gratefully.

Something light struck Kageyama in the back of his head. He swiveled around on his stool to find an unassuming wad of paper napkin sitting on the floor to glare accusingly at. He followed an extrapolated arc to a two top with a familiar face waggling fingers enticingly in his direction. Kageyama excused himself from the counter and carried his coffee over to the table.

Nishinoya sat with one ankle balanced on the opposite knee and his chin resting on a fist. He had a heavy jacket draped over the back of his chair and his boots dripped from the melting slush stuck to the ragged hems of his faded black jeans. His pinky uncurled from his fist and settled on the corner of his mouth.

“Long time, no see,” Nishinoya greeted.

“Sorry about that,” Kageyama said. He took the seat across from him, set down his coffee, and shrugged out of his coat.

“Been well?”

“More or less, you?” 

“Can’t complain.” Nishinoya only half a moment before getting to the real question. “So to what do I owe the call?”

Kageyama looked up at the ceiling. Maybe the concise, considerate answer was up there. “When I got home from the party, my ex-girlfriend found your note in my pocket when I wasn’t looking,” he explained.

“Ex-girlfriend,” Nishinoya repeated, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah,” Kageyama confirmed with a sigh, “She, uh, gave it back after she dumped me.” Kageyama felt a pang of heartache and took a slurp of coffee. The term seemed too impersonal to him, like it wasn’t reserved for the person who Kageyama had hung out with every day for four months.

“I’m sorry. That sucks.” Nishinoya’s face softened and he looked down at the table. The grin morphed to something more unsure, more supportive.

There was hair floating in Kageyama’s coffee, drifting on an unseen current. He plucked it out and wiped his fingers on a napkin. He chuckled dryly. “It was a misunderstanding.” Kageyama felt his chest clench uncomfortably as he tried to force the words to spew out. “Like the accidental implication that I was seeing you or someone behind her back or whatever.” He checked to make sure Nishinoya was still listening and found himself momentarily unable to continue.

When the two of them were in high school together, Nishinoya Yuu had hardly been the upperclassman that Kageyama would have sought advice from. Nishinoya had been a scrub of a delinquent minus the tobacco and the absences who was a scrape from the bottom of the academic barrel. Oftentimes he provided some comedic relief during volleyball practice. But when they played volleyball together, it was like they became different people. Kageyama was the genius setter and Nishinoya was the star libero. If a play Kageyama set up went awry, it was up to Nishinoya to leap, dive, and slide to along the floor to keep the ball in play. When Nishinoya stood on the court, he was always ready to spring into action. His eyes had the glint of a constantly turning mind that spared no energy to keep up a smile.

The look Nishinoya had now reminded him of then. He had uncrossed his legs and sat right in his chair. He looked ready to move and react. His eyes watched him and calculated. Kageyama could only pray that they weren’t calibrating an angle out of the diner to avoid his conversation forever. Nishinoya waited. 

Kageyama took a calming breath and continued, “But that didn’t really happen. She just asked me, I mean, I think she had known for a while and I confirmed it, I guess.”

“I’m not sure if I follow,” Nishinoya replied, “You don’t have to tell me if you’re uncomfortable.”

Kageyama felt himself blush, feeling the pressure fall off him. “Sorry, it’s just weird.”

Nishinoya shrugged. “All relationships are weird.”

“How so?”

Nishinoya made a sweeping gesture. “It’s like. . .” he started, “for some reason, it’s okay for the special person to call you seeking conversation everyday or more than once a day. The special person can communicate a paragraph to you with a facial expression or a touch of their hand. You know?”

Kageyama nodded.

“And you like it. That’s the crazy part. When you’ve gotten over how creepy and clingy and magic it is because they’re the special one. Or ones. I don’t have a place to judge,” Nishinoya finished.

“It is pretty creepy,” Kageyama agreed. “I regularly let Misaki crack my toes and I never even considered it to possible become an aspect of my daily life.”

Nishinoya snorted. “That’s weird as shit.”

Kageyama caught him glance over at the menus as he twisted his rolled up silverware tighter together.

“You want to order?” Kageyama asked, reaching over and tapping the waitress call button without really thinking.

“Yes, I’m actually famished over here.” Nishinoya sighed. “I ended up staying at the office installing Windows 10 on every machine in the building with tears streaming unchecked down my hollowed cheeks until 9:45 last night. I was so depressed, I skipped dinner. I never skip dinner.”

“What’s so bad about Windows 10 to warrant starving from grief?” Kageyama didn’t try to hide his amused smile.

Nishinoya was a man who spoke with his entire body. The way he raised his hand to his face to mime the spontaneous migraine at the thought to the way his lips curled as he spoke was captivating. Kageyama found himself watching him talk as much as he was listening. The silver shine in his ears served to distract from the words, as well. That is, until their server rounded the line of tables and came into view.

Nametsu Mai was popping a piece of purple bubble gum, her hair in bouncing pigtails, when she skidded to a stop in her white sneakers. The gum stuck to her lips and her hands became fists. Kageyama waved weakly, hoping to assuage whatever annoyance suddenly flared within her. She smacked her lips to clear them of the sticky residue before she approached. She affixed her A+ customer service smile into place with nothing but darkness lingering in her eyes.

Nishinoya was unaware of the encroaching storm. “And then, I said, ‘Did you try turning it on and off again?’ for the hundredth time that day and this guy tells me that he’d yanked out the cord so hard that he bent the prongs into the socket. I tell the guy . . .”

Nametsu was right beside him, pen poised like a poisoned pin. Kageyama cleared his throat. Nishinoya offered Nametsu a sideways glance.

Nishinoya said, “If you would be so kind, I’d like to request a different server.”

Kageyama’s blood ran cold.

Nametsu stiffened and her smile widen a touch towards mania. She replied, “You’re welcome to bring this up with the manager while your order is being prepared.” The words oozed syrupy saccharine.

“Sorry, Miss Mai,” Nishinoya returned, “But I refuse the service of the woman who dared lay a hand on Shouyou.”

“Don’t call me that,” she objected. “And that’s none of your business, Yuu.” She spat his name like a fly that’d flown into her mouth.

“We can just change to another section,” Kageyama compromised. He felt the heat from the sparks.

Nishinoya charged on. “That’s right. I’m not in the ‘business’ of domestic violence, am I?”

Nametsu scoffed. “It’s hardly ‘domestic violence-’”

Kageyama disagreed. He had seen the blood trickle down Hinata’s face.

“-Like your opinion on my relationship matters. You’ve fucked half the town and still don’t have someone to go home to.”

Kageyama winced and shaded his eyes. They were getting attention.

Nishinoya spread out his arms and then knit his fingers together behind his head, smile grotesquely wide. “What can I say? I’m a lover, not a sadist.”

“A lover? Please,” Nametsu mocked even though she was breaking. “Like anyone could love such an insufferable asshole.” She turned tail and fled. She pushed through the swinging doors into the kitchen.

Kageyama half rose out of his seat to go after her and decided to sit back down. He thought about suggesting a new location, but between the weather and the fading sparks of anger in Nishinoya’s eyes made him hesitant.

“Do you two have some kind of history?” Kageyama asked, treading lightly.

Nishinoya slurped an ice cube from his glass and chewed it to bits noisily in his mouth. “We don’t have that kind of history, if that’s what you’re implying,” he answered sharply.

“No implication intended.”

Nishinoya leaned over and pinged the waitress call again. “She’s not exactly a local. Soon after she moved into town on her own, I met her at one of Michimiya’s parties and took her under my wing. We were really good friends for a month or so.”

“What happened?” Kageyama couldn’t help himself.

Nishinoya looked morose, glaring at the remaining ice cubes in his glass. He responded, “I introduced her to Shouyou.”

Confounded, Kageyama only nodded to acknowledge that he had heard. Nishinoya shrugged. A different waitress came and they both ordered the same style of breakfast special. The two sat in an awkward silence. Kageyama reeled from the spat. He took in the view of the restaurant from a table other than the one tucked away in the smoking section for the first time. The dining room was actually rather modest: about ten tables in each section and the breakfast bar in front of the kitchen. The east facing windows poured harsh winter sun onto the booths. Not many had decided to brave the current inclement weather. A couple of men sat with smoke curling between them with papers spread across the table. One toppled his cup of coffee over the spread and splattered his companion’s rumpled button down. 

Kageyama looked away and tried to imagine Nishinoya wearing a suit. 

“Nishinoya,” Kageyama began, “I’m surprised your company lets you bleach your hair.”

Nishinoya blew up at his forehead, making his free bleached bangs flutter. He explained, “I’m on the books as a temp. Never got around to getting a degree.”

“Oh? Do you have a contract?”

“A five year one, yeah,” Nishinoya replied, looking smug.

“Five years is a temp?”

Nishinoya shrugged dramatically. “They’re too reliant on me to ever replace me now.”

“Impressive,” Kageyama admitted.

“A word of advice that my supervisor passed only when he offered me the contract, ‘Once you’re older than all the fresh graduates, they’re only going to be looking at your experience,’” Nishinoya quoted, bringing his hand to his chin to stroke an imaginary beard.

Nishinoya talked about his work and his coworkers and every quirk of the two with a combination of affection and exasperation. He mentioned offhandedly that his irregular hours and extra stints at the office made him never want to go out on the weekends. A different waitress dropped off their plates with a nonchalant smile and abruptly excused herself. Nishinoya took a whiff of the steaming plate.

“This looks great,” Nishinoya praised, reaching over for ketchup, but catching Kageyama’s eye, “but it wouldn’t have been enough to get me out on my day off.”

Kageyama unrolled his silverware with an uncoordinated clatter as he felt himself heat from flattery. He retorted, “But you go out a lot, don’t you? Miss Michimiya says that she always sees you around.”

“That’s because she’s the one always inviting me out and I never say no,” Nishinoya replied easily. He speared a piping potato and popped it into his mouth.

“Why not?” Kageyama wondered aloud. He spread butter across a piece of dark toast and dipped the crust in his egg yolk.

Nishinoya pointed his fork at Kageyama. “You never know who you might meet.” He winked.

Kageyama’s heart seized for a moment, serving only to send blood to darken his cheeks. He couldn’t help but feed off the harmless flirting. After a long month of uncharacteristically being alone, he craved all the attention he was receiving. The part of him that aspires to be clever got ahead of him.

“I’m glad that I met you again,” Kageyama admitted. The words slipped out before he could filter them.

Nishinoya’s fork stopped en route to his mouth. He watched his food neutrally as he replied, “You too.”

Their meal continued. The food cooled before either had an opportunity to finish with all the aimless chatter. No lunch rush came to guilt them into leaving. Nametsu was in and out of view and going well out of her way to avoid their table. The last sips of coffee were lukewarm and over sweetened. The check was evenly split with no fuss. At the door, they both hesitated. Eventually, they made their way into the cold as a family of four entered. The wind had not let up in the slightest. Kageyama looked to the demonic path before him and resigned to his fate. Nishinoya was standing with his hands in his pockets and fluffy gray ear muffs wrapped around his head.

“You doing anything after this?” Nishinoya asked.

It occurred to Kageyama in this moment that the wasn’t ready to say goodbye just yet. Even as much as he wanted to make up with Nametsu or get any modicum of packing done for tomorrow. . . he couldn’t look away from Nishinoya.

“No plans,” Kageyama answered. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled in anticipation (or from the gust blasting him in the face and cutting through his jeans like a hot knife through butter.)

“Do you want to come over to my place for a bit?” Nishinoya proposed. “It’s a fifteen minute hike in the opposite direction but-”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Kageyama interrupted. He would feel embarrassed if his words hadn’t put a shyer smile on Nishinoya’s face than he’d ever encountered before that vanished in a sudden sneeze.

“Let’s hurry before we catch our deaths out here.”

Nishinoya lived in the third story of a building of single room apartments that housed average twenty to forty year old bachelors. Immediately upon crossing the miniscule genkan, there was a compact laundry machine tucked next to the shoe rack and a plastic folding door across the way leading to a shower. Nishinoya flicked on a light and slid out of his boots. He hopped down the meter long hallway and pulled the remote for the heater off the wall.

“Welcome to my mansion,” Nishinoya announced once the heat kicked on.

Kageyama balanced with a hand on the wall as he kicked out of his shoes. Gravel and slush scattered from being trapped in the deep treads of his shoes. He stumbled up the step. Two small, boney hands caught his arm and pulled him upright. Bright eyes looked up at him.

“Mind the step,” Nishinoya warned belatedly.

Energy pulsed up his arms from the strong grasp, twisting his emotions into knots. The grip loosened until it was a guiding tug on his wrist.

“I’ll give you the 50 yen tour, though it’s probably not even worth a nickel,” Nishinoya joked. He pointed at the various things in his apartment. “We’ve got washer, shower, fridge, microwave, stove, no oven, sink, tiny-ass cabinet, toilet, and . . . my room.”

The first thought was that the room was startlingly neat for a single guy’s room. A long, thin bed frame was dressed in a wrapped futon with two encased pillows. A laptop, mouse, and mousepad sat squarely on a small table in the corner, the laptop’s wires bound neatly on their way to the router and power strip. The white walls were bare save for one somewhat worn Monet water lilies print above his bed. The closet door was closed over and a steel ladder led up to a dark, empty loft over the kitchen area. The second thought was that the room was virtually empty. No memories or trinkets or photos. No lingering scent of laundry or any recently made meals. Not even a spoon in the spotless, shining sink.

“It’s a nice place,” Kageyama replied diplomatically.

Nishinoya cracked his forefinger and middle finger with his thumb, looking up at his high ceiling. His hair was unperturbed by the warm air blowing through its style. “Is it?” Nishinoya wondered, “I’ve been here for almost a year and the place just hasn’t grown on me.”

“More like, you haven’t grown on the place,” Kageyama suggested.

Nishinoya sat on his bed and flattened out the wrinkles with the palm of his hand. “Guess I’m trying not to get too attached.”

“I can understand that,” Kageyama concurred. He took a quick inventory of the room. He asked, “Where may I sit?”

Nishinoya shrugged. “You’ve got two options: the bed or the floor. I mean, the table’s pretty sturdy, but that’s not what it was intended for.”

Some math went into Kageyama’s hopefully discreet decision to seat himself on the bed approximately two lengths of his hand away from Nishinoya.

“Good choice,” Nishinoya remarked. He then asked, “So, what’s your favorite movie?”

Kageyama turned a few titles over in his mind. “I don’t really have a favorite.”

Nishinoya slammed his hands down on the space between them, eyes widened in disbelief. “What!”

Kageyama leaned away. “Is it really that big of a deal?”

“Of course!” Nishinoya exploded, “You don’t have a movie that gives you chills just to hear the title or the first few notes of the ending credits? That makes you tear up even if the ending was victorious because you are vicariously crying the stars’ tears of joy? With that one line that makes you laugh harder each time you hear it even if it wasn’t originally that funny?”

“I don’t think so?” Kageyama replied, unsure. It’s been a long time since a movie made him cry. The movie with the robot doctor was pretty close, but he’d gone to see the movie with his teammates in high school and there was no way he was gonna tear up in front of them over fiction.

Nishinoya blinked several times, then nodded. He pushed himself up off the bed and squatted in front of his closet door. “Let’s rectify that right now. I’ll show you my favorite movie and we’ll see if you get chills and shed real salty, salty tears.”

From the angle Kageyama sat in, he could see several hanging outfits of business attire and a small dresser tucked in the closet., but Nishinoya was yanking out a worn cardboard box whose sides were reconstructed with variably aged duct tape. It was stocked to the brim with DVD’s. He ran a finger lovingly along the spines until he came across his target. He slid the case out with careful ease and presented it to Kageyama. The case was red and black and the title consisted of English he did not know the meaning of. Nishinoya’s smile was blinding as he looked at Kageyama expectantly.

“Is this some kind of horror movie?” Kageyama guessed. It was rated R, too.

“You’ve never even heard of it?” Nishinoya sounded wounded. “I hope you’ve got two and half free hours and a natural subtitle reading ability.”

“Wait, this movie isn’t in Japanese?” Kageyama gulped. His English skills barely got him into university and he hadn’t touched the subject since.

“I told you, there are subtitles. Plus, I’m here to fill in any holes in your understanding,” assured Nishinoya. Nishinoya was busy setting up his computer on the table at an adequate distance from the bed for viewing. He coaxed the DVD out of the case and placed it tenderly into the loading tray. A few clicks and the DVD options displayed on the screen. Nishinoya shot to his feet.

He said, “Oh, I’ve been so rude. Could I offer you a drink? A snack? I don’t have much, but I could run to the convenience store. It’s a long movie, after all.”

Kageyama waved his hands in decline. “I’m fine.”

“We at least have to have popcorn,” Nishinoya decided, talking to himself. He stepped into his kitchen and opened the earnestly small cabinet. From inside, he pulled out a plastic bag and tore it open with his teeth. It was in the microwave a moment later and Nishinoya was frowning into his small refrigerator. “I’ve got barley tea for some reason. Isn’t that a summer drink? Wait!” He pulled out the vegetable crisper. “I’ve got a carton of lemon iced tea too.”

Less than four minutes of the DVD intro playing on loop and Nishinoya returned with two modest glasses of lemon iced tea and a medium sized pot of hot, buttery smelling popcorn. (“I haven’t got any big bowls.”) Kageyama took the tea with a reserved smile.

“Here we go,” Nishinoya announced, dramatically clicking the play button and falling back down onto his bed. He sat legs criss crossed and one of his knees rested against Kageyama’s thigh.

The movie seemed like a blur. Kageyama’s eyes raced across the screen to absorb the action and the subtitles. He was not lost, but some parts were certainly confusing. There was a lull in the action, the main characters quiet and still.

Nishinoya whispered along with their dialogue, his faux English accent diligently maintained throughout the scene. He followed the actions of the hero, arms raised and waving smoothly. Kageyama probably missed key subtitles watching the sideshow. Nishinoya participated in the fight scenes and cheered and pushed Kageyama at crucial moments of the hero’s momentary weakness.

The tension in the movie was reaching towards a climax. Kageyama could sense the key change in the score as two side characters revealed important aspects of the plot that had Kageyama gripping his jeans in concentration as he focused on the flash of characters appearing along the bottom of the screen.

“Oh shit,” Kageyama whispered just as the secondary character’s face dawned with realization. He exhaled his movie induced nerves and leaned against the wall behind him. He looked over to comment on the revelation to Nishinoya and found him slumped against the wall, asleep. Irritation passed over him like a wave and he prodded Nishinoya sharply in the shoulder. 

Nishinoya’s eyes opened, lids barely pulled over his irises. He glanced at the screen and closed them again. He mumbled, “Wake me up after the train.” He dozed again.

Kageyama sighed in exasperation. “What is that supposed to mean?” he hissed. He watched the movie with his arms crossed over his chest. He hadn’t missed much - only some visual montage towards the denouement. There was a resolution of a potential love interest that made Kageyama’s heart flutter. Nishinoya’s body leaned in his sleep and propped itself up on Kageyama’s shoulder.

He was no longer able to focus on the subtitles at all. Nishinoya’s head was hard and warm against his shoulder. Kageyama was afraid to move and disturb him. The movie continued on with less than an entire soul viewing it and a scene occurred that did mention a train. Kageyama faced a dilemma of how to rouse Nishinoya without feeling like a creep or uncaring. He settled for placing a hand on his knee and shaking there.

“Nishinoya,” Kageyama said softly. He almost didn’t want him to wake up. This was nice. The taste of tea in his mouth and his fingers greasy from popcorn. The heater had warmed the room to cozy and the light from the southward facing window was fading fast, casting the room in long, dark shadows. The lines of the open blinds covered Nishinoya’s face. Kageyama shook his knee again halfheartedly.

“Nishinoya,” he called.

He opened his eyes with a start and surveyed his situation. Nishinoya leaned harder against Kageyama’s shoulder as he stretched his arms and legs out in front of him, pointing his fingers and toes with a low groan of fading drowsiness. He sat himself upright. The movie was coming to an end.

“Ah, sorry about that,” Nishinoya said. He massaged his neck with one hand.

“I didn’t mind it,” Kageyama replied, feeling too warm in his sweater.

The last scene was literally explosive, demanding attention. The lead female spoke the last words and wiped away her tears. Nishinoya leaned towards the computer and dabbed at his eyes with the hem of his shirt. The screen went black and the end credits music started to play. Nishinoya turned to look at him with a familiar intensity in his eyes. Kageyama sincerely felt the goosebumps emerge up and down his arms.

“That was a good movie,” Kageyama remarked. His voice felt a galaxy away from where his body was pinned by Nishinoya’s unrelenting gaze.

“I’m glad you liked it.” Nishinoya rested against his wall, fingers tugging and bending to elicit cracks from joints that weren’t ready to produce them again yet.

Seconds of eye contact dragged on. It was unbearable.

There was a knock at the door. Kageyama jumped in his seat and looked over at the intercom in surprise. A beat passed and the bell chimed. A man in a suit with a lanyard name tag was outside. Nishinoya groaned and made his way to the door.

“Hello, I am a local NHK representative and I am here to remind you that, if you own a television, you are required to pay the monthly fee,” the guest said patiently.

“I don’t have a television,” Nishinoya explained flatly.

Kageyama stood up and geared up to return outside. He found his hat underneath Nishinoya’s bed, how did that happen?

“I was informed that all of these apartments are equipped with televisions, sir,” the man objected.

“Have a nice day,” Nishinoya replied. He closed the door.

Nishinoya turned around with a furrow in his brow that only deepened when he was met with Kageyama halfway to the door.

“I’m moving out of my dorm room tomorrow, so I should really go pack,” Kageyama said. The disappointment on Nishinoya’s face was guilting him immensely.

“Right, I understand,” Nishinoya said. He stepped aside to allow Kageyama access to his shoes. He watched Kageyama lace his boots while he bit at the cuticle of his thumb nail.

Kageyama wanted to clear this atmosphere. He finished tying his boots and wound his scarf around his neck an extra time for good measure. He stood on the genkan with his heart thundering in his chest.

“I had a really good time today, Nishinoya,” Kageyama stated.

“Me too,” Nishinoya said. He took a half a step forward.

“We should do this again. When you have time, of course,” Kageyama added.

“Only if you call me Yuu.” 

“How about Noya?” Kageyama offered in compromise.

Nishinoya Yuu visibly shivered in response. “Definitely not that. Just Yuu is fine.”

“I’ll do that from now on then,” Kageyama complied. “I’ll see you soon, Yuu.”

Yuu smiled at that, the one that Kageyama had only seen for a moment outside the diner. “I’ll hold you to it.”

Kageyama walked home. It took almost an hour and as the sunshine waned it had only grown colder. His feet became lifeless stones as he forced himself down the path. His lips cracked and bled as he couldn’t keep himself from smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kageyama’s phone rang in his pocket when he arrived to his dorm room.
> 
> “Hello?”
> 
> “Kageyama? It’s Hinata.”
> 
> “Oh, hey. What’s up?”
> 
> “Remember when we were talking last month about getting a place together?”
> 
> “Yeah.”
> 
> “Did you sign up for the dorm yet?”
> 
> “No, why?”
> 
> “I think I found a place.”
> 
> “Oh.”
> 
> Oh.


End file.
